From A Different Time
by heiots
Summary: Juliet's a baby doctor. James's a cop. She's not mousey and not exactly confident. He's pretty much a nice guy. But there is a connection from a different time. They just don't know it. James/Juliet
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"_We could get coffee sometime. We can go dutch." _

"_I ain't turning down a coffee date," was his reply. "But a gentleman never lets a lady pay."_

She absent-mindedly taps her fingers on the top of the table, making drumming sounds on the surface. For the countless time that day, her coincidental meetings with a tall, not-so-dark and handsome stranger runs through her mind.

She was drained of energy before it was even one o'clock, thanks to a difficult first-time mother who obstinately refused to listen to her, and not one, but two, colicky babies under her care. Dropping by the visitors' waiting room to get a strong cup of coffee in order to survive the rest of the day, she bumped into a blond man leaning on the side of the vending machine.

The second she lifted her eyes to his, there was a certainty within her that led her to believe they had met before. For one long and, not to mention, incredibly embarrassing moment, she stood glued to the spot, staring at the seemingly amused stranger with rugged good looks and hair too long for her liking. He spoke before she did, sticking out his hand and very charmingly, introduced himself as James Ford.

James Ford. Is the name familiar or what?

She shook his hand, smiling shyly when he insisted on paying for her beverage. Later in the day, she ran into him again in the cafeteria. Now thinking about it, she must have been quite flustered by their second chance meeting.

"_It's you," she blurts upon recognizing the person next to her._

_He holds a Styrofoam cup in one hand and a packet of cheese crackers in the other. At her unusual response, he chuckles. "I've been hangin' around here for a while. I figure they ain't gonna take much longer before I get to go home though." _

_As she stands there, hands in the pockets of her coat, she feels a growing urge to ask if they have met before. When she does, he shrugs. No, he doesn't recall any time they've been together._

_Seeing no further reason to pursue the matter, she attempts to brush away the odd feeling._

"_You have a bit of time?" He tilts his head towards the nearest available table, his intentions clear. _

_She tries to glance discreetly at the huge clock mounted on the wall at the other side of the cafeteria. She hasn't time to sit and chat. In another few minutes she will have to make her rounds._

"_It's okay if you have to go," he says. "I know duty calls. No obligations."_

_She takes two steps away, then, pauses and turns back. "We could get coffee sometime." Remembering their earlier encounter where he bought her a drink, and not wanting him to get the wrong impression, she adds with a smile. "We can go dutch."_

_He laughs. "I ain't turnin' down a coffee date, blondie, but a gentleman never lets a lady pay."_

She asked on an impulse if he wanted to go out sometime, and much to her surprise and deep relief, he did not turn her down.

She exhales noisily as she leans back, resting her head on the top of her blue cushioned office chair. Forehead crinkled in a frown, she wonders why she's voluntarily spending so much time mulling over a perfect stranger. And whatever possessed her to ask him out for coffee? She is never one to act on impulses, and cute guys most definitely do not make her swoon.

Until now, it seems.

Despite the strong sense of déjà vu, she still can't recall ever having met him before. She has racked her brains the entire afternoon with no results to show for it.

_Coffee. Right. I'm probably never going to see him again after today._

Her eyes flickers to the view outside her window, where the sky is turning dark and the beginnings of a storm appears to be in process. Straightening with a start, she focuses her gaze on the clock at the bottom right-hand corner of her computer screen.

Damn. She's late.

Rachel is expecting her to be home soon to help prepare invitation cards for Julian's birthday party.

"Way to go, Juliet," she mumbles irritably to herself as she clicks the red button for shutting off the computer. "You've barely met the man and you're already letting him ruin your life."

Hurriedly shrugging off her white coat, she hangs it up on the metal rack by the table. Then she slings her leather handbag over her shoulder, flipping the switch for the florescent light, plunging the room into near darkness. There are a couple of things she needs to settle before leaving the hospital.

Turning the corner in the corridor, she heads for the door on the left with long strides. The name on the metal plating stuck on the front reads, 'Dr Jack Shephard'. She raps on the smooth grey door twice and twisting the slender handle, she pokes her head in. "Jack," she calls to the dark-haired man sitting at the desk, reviewing some papers. "Could you help me tell Sandra I've gone off? Tell her I'm sorry I can't stay. Got my nephew's party to attend to." She flashes a smile. "He's turning two."

"No problem."

"Thanks." She begins to shut the door when a fleeting thought enters her mind. "Uh, Jack?"

"Yeah?" He looks up again, eyebrows raised.

"I just passed Claire a few hours ago. She'll be here for Aaron tomorrow," she says hesitantly, knowing a bit about their background. "I thought you'd like to know. In case you want to meet them for a while before they leave or something."

He nods, saying nothing, and returns to his work as though he has never been disturbed.

She leaves him with his stack of papers and proceeds to the car park. Thunder rumbles faintly in the distance and as she waits for the elevator, she notices the marks of rain on the glass windows. The weather forecast in the newspapers hasn't predicted rain today. Reaching the basement, with quick, hasty steps, she approaches her car when her cell phone rings. As she digs into her bag for both the phone and her car keys, she nearly trips. Over nothing, apparently.

"Damn it." She curses, the words slipping out unintentionally. Why doesn't she pay more attention to little things like walking? She hits the answer button on the phone, hoping it to be anyone but her sister.

No such luck. Rachel is on the line and she doesn't sound happy. This isn't a good day for her.

She pulls open the car door and slides in, setting her bag in the passenger seat. "I'm on my way. I'm sorry. I lost track of time," she says and listens to a slightly annoyed voice on the other end. "I'll be home in twenty minutes or so. I promise." She waits for her sister to hang up and then starts the engine, praying there won't be a traffic jam because of the rain.

It must be a prayer unanswered, because minutes later, she finds herself sitting behind the wheel with water streaming down her windscreen, seething as the blares of horns fill the air.

Isn't it just the most wonderful day.

* * *

She screeches to a stop in the driveway, nearly trips again getting out of the car, and tries to dodge through the pouring rain into the house. As the front door slams shut behind her, she hears her older sister yelling from the bedroom.

"Juliet, I'm about to be driven nuts with a mini tornado in the house!"

A little boy with tousled blond hair races out from one of the rooms and crashes into her, wrapping himself around her leg. She feels his quivering body as he presses his face into her jeans, giggling as only a young child can. She reaches down, trying to hide a smile, and heaves him up in her arms.

"You've been a bad boy today?" She says in mock sternness, looking into blue eyes, a mirror image of hers. The difference is that his eyes sparkle with boyish mischief and endless energy. Hers never do.

Julian shakes his head wildly. Peering up at her, he inquires in the most adorable manner, "Did you buy anything for me?"

"Not today, sweetheart," she answers, planting a quick kiss on his forehead before letting him down. "Come on. Let's go see if Mommy needs our help."

"Thank God you're here," is what greets her when she walks into her sister's bedroom. Rachel is seated on the floor with more than a dozen cards surrounding her.

"Goodness, Rachel. How many people are you planning to invite?" She asks in astonishment. Julian, who has been bouncing impatiently beside her, pulls his hand from her grasp and runs to the corner where a toy car, fire engine and dark green truck in the midst of an accident scene await him.

Her sister, in baggy shorts and an oversized T-shirt, ignores her question. "Where have you been, Jules? You're half-an-hour late."

"Sorry." She lowers herself to the ground, careful not to mess up any of the invitations. "I totally spaced out in the office and there was a massive jam on the highway. Bad weather."

"Spacing out, huh," Rachel remarks distractedly as she searches in the container for a colored pen. "What happened? Met a hot guy on your shift?"

"Hm. Something like that."

Rachel stops nosily pawing through the pens and turns a disbelieving gaze towards her.

"Something wrong, Rach?"

"No," she replies unconvincingly then pauses. "Well, maybe yes. After that useless jerk of an ex-husband, you haven't gone out on a single date. You haven't even shown the slightest interest in _men_ and now all of a sudden you—"

"I've been busy," she interjects during her sibling's rambling.

"Excuses. You know they are and you cannot blame me for being skeptical, can you, Juliet?" Her sister finally comes to a stop and draws in a breath.

For a moment, they hear only Julian's 'vroom, vroom' as he plays with his toy vehicles.

"So," her sister starts again. "What's his name?"

"James." She feels her heart give a little jump. "James Ford."

"Thames…" Julian echoes as he rams his truck repeatedly into the wall.

"Occupation?"

She shoots a partially exasperated look at her sister. "We playing twenty questions, Rach?"

"Hey, it's my duty to protect you, being the older one in this house," she jokes. "So give."

"I don't know," she admits. "It doesn't really matter anyway. I'm probably never going to see him again." As she reaches for a card, she wonders why her heart seems to sink at the very thought of not getting another chance to meet the attractive stranger, the man whom she feels she knows from somewhere in her past.

**

* * *

**

It is definite. Fate has no intention of them meeting again. He must have disappeared into thin air or moved to another state or something. She has not seen him for the past week. It has come to her that she booked him for a coffee date the other day without even giving him a way to contact her.

For someone regarded as a near genius, she sure does incredibly silly things.

Her footsteps pound on the gravel track in an even rhythm. The sky is getting lighter now. It was dark when she started out half an hour ago. Seeing the end of the route, she pushes away the tiredness, ignores her complaining muscles, and pours on the speed. She just needs to endure the pain for a minute or so. When she stumbles to a stop at last, her legs give way and she drops to the ground, gasping for air.

Perhaps she will aim for a shorter distance the next time.

She presses her small beige towel to her dripping head, willing her heart to stop racing. The world is spinning like an out-of-control carousel. She closes her eyes, forcing herself to take slow, deep breaths. When her heart rate has somewhat returned to normal, she cautiously pushes herself up off the ground, thankful when the surroundings stay in their rightful positions. With careful steps, she descends the sloped pavement that will lead to her car, running the schedule for the day through her mind.

She will head home for a bath and get breakfast ready before Rachel leaves for her trip to the hospital. Her sister refuses to allow her to tag along, asking that she bring Julian out to the mall instead. Personally, she isn't particularly happy about the decision, but it isn't her call. Taking her nephew out is the least she can do. She will make sure they return home before Rachel does.

Her sister needs her.

* * *

The cutest, most adorable boy presses his nose to the glass, peering at the tiny, wriggling fur-covered bodies in the enclosure. "Hammies," he says in a hushed voice with wonder. His eyes, bright blue like round marbles, meet hers. "Liet, look! Hammies!"

"Yes, honey. Hammies." She tugs him away before the idea of pestering her for a furry creature gets into his head. Everyone knows, of course, when a two-year-old wants something, you'll be hard-pressed to say no without the risk of facing the temper tantrum of the century. She doesn't want a screaming toddler testing her patience, lest of all when they're in the shopping mall where she knows they will attract disapproving eyes.

They take the escalator up to the second floor, where the department store is situated. Julian squeezes her hand then.

"I need go pee-pee," he informs her solemnly.

That means she has officially five minutes, or less, before Julian wets his pants. When did they start his potty training? About a month or so, she guessed. Not good. Scanning the entire level, she searches for the universal restroom symbol that would indicate the way to the toilets and spots it at the far end.

_Bingo. _

Well aware of the urgency of the situation, she holds on tight to her nephew's hand and weaves their way through the crowd. As they pass the movie rental store, she makes a sharp right at the corner.

And slams right into a walking rock wall.

_Ahhhh-oowwww._

Her hands fly to her face, where all of a sudden her nose feels like it has been smashed against a brick.

"Son of a bitch. Sorry 'bout that. You okay?"

What's that? She can't hear properly over the pain of her throbbing nose.

"Well, I'll be damned! If it ain't Doctor Blondie," the voice says again, this time with a tinge of surprise.

She startles at the accent that seems more pronounced now. Hands still covering her nose, she lifts her head gingerly.

James Ford, looking every bit just as cool and collected, not to mention gorgeous, as he did the other day. Only this time he sports a bruise on the side of his jaw. She doesn't know which emotion she feels the strongest. Astonishment, delight from seeing him again, or just…pain.

_Try humiliation. _

"Hi," she manages to choke out.

"You okay?"

Julian squirms beside her. She reaches down for his hand and grasps it firmly in hers. "Yeah, just…" She shakes her head, a suitable choice of word evading her. "Never mind. I should've looked where I was walking."

"Me too." He flashes a smile and she swears the temperature of the mall climbs up a few degrees. Then he glances at Julian and asks casually, "Your kid?"

"Oh. No, he's my nephew. I have the day off so I thought I'd bring him out. You know, give my sister a break." She pauses. "You, uh…shopping?"

_Eloquent, Juliet. He's going to be so impressed._

"Not exactly," he replies. "Just here to grab lunch with some friends."

Oh. They were about to get lunch too, weren't they? She looks at Julian, who is positively turning red in the face, reminding her that time is running out.

"Which reminds me," he says in a rather flirtatious way. That's what she thinks, of course. "Coffee date's long overdue. Real smart move. Askin' me out for coffee and not leavin' your number. I'll remember that whenever I wanna make a quick and polite getaway."

She feels the heat creep up to her face. "It was unintentional."

"I went back thinkin' I'd ask them in there where to find you. But you didn't give me your name either. My description 'blond and beautiful' didn't quite work at the front desk."

She can't help breaking into a laugh. "Juliet," she tells him. "You can call me Juliet."

"Juliet."

"Lieeet," Julian whimpers, knees bending, legs crossing and uncrossing.

"Looks like Bud here needs the loo." He drawls with a chuckle. "Not a good time. How about I call you so we can do that coffee date, Doctor Blondie?"

"Juliet."

"Juliet."

"Liet?" A high-pitched voice ends in a squeak.

She shifts her attention to her nephew, who stares up at her in guiltily remorse. A rapidly growing stain darkens his pants and at the bottom edge, something drips onto the glossy shine of the floor.

_Bad. This is bad._

"Need some help?"

She's tempted to say yes just so he can hang around a little while longer, but knowing she's capable of cleaning up the mess alone, she declines and thanks him with a smile for the offer. As she hurriedly ushers her nephew into the ladies, she is struck by a feeling that she has forgotten to do something, but at that moment, she is unable to pinpoint what it is that bothers her. It isn't until she's picking out a pair of kid-styled jeans in the Giordano store that she remembers.

She has forgotten to give him her contact number. Again.

**

* * *

**

"You make people think you're tough and all, Ford, and you act cool, but in reality, you're just an old softie and this just proves it." An Asian man who appears to be in his late twenties quickens his steps to catch up to the blond man striding ahead of him. "Tell me. Are you seriously serious about this woman? I mean, you've only met her for like, what, twice? Are you listening to me, Ford? Do you realize what you're going to do?"

"I should think I do," he finally replies as he stops in front of a brightly decorated shop. Squinting from the intense glare of the sun, he places his hands on his hips and gazes up at the signboard. La Fleur Florist, it says. "I think this is it. This is the place."

"And I think _this_ is way out of your league. You have no idea what you're getting yourself into, man."

"So that's why we're gonna find out. Come on, partner. We ain't got no time to waste."

Miles shakes his head. "You will regret this, cowboy."

Ignoring the negativity and certain that he faces an easy task, he pushes the glass door of the shop open and steps in. A draught of cool air greets him as he enters a foreign world.

Flowers of unimaginable color, type and scent surround him. For an instant, he is taken aback by the unexpected wide variety that is provided. When was the last time he bought flowers? He doesn't remember. In fact, he doesn't think he has even gotten flowers for anyone before. A plump saleswoman, with hair streaked with grey and donned in a checkered apron, straightens and looks at them. She raises her eyebrows and he is reminded of why he's here.

Miles nudges him.

"I'd like to get…flowers," he states rather awkwardly.

Beside him, Miles whispers, "You can't get any more specific than that, Ford."

"Hey, shut up, will you?" He shoots back under his breath.

"For a lady?" the woman asks. She has a slight French accent, he notices. As he nods, she probes further with a knowing smile. "Girlfriend?"

"Not exactly," he admits, shifting his feet in discomfort.

"But he's hoping."

"Ah," she exclaims and starts waddling down the narrow aisle, rattling information off the top of her head. "We have many kinds of flowers for men in your situation, but I suggest a hand bouquet if you want to give it to your lady. What kind of flowers does she like? Whatever it is, I'm sure we have it. We've got roses in assorted colors, sunflowers, geraniums, lilies, daisies, tulips. We've even got a discount on the Spring Sweetness Bouquet, if you're short on cash…"

_Geraniums? Daisies? Spring Sweetness Bouquet?_

His head swimming, he throws Miles a helpless look.

"I hate to say this, bro, but I told you so," was his companion's only response, coated thick with false pity.

* * *

_Baby's fishing for a dream, fishing near and far.  
His line a silver moonbeam is, his bait a silver star.  
Sail, baby, sail out upon that sea;  
Only don't forget to sail back again to me._

She softens her voice as the patient's breathing evens out. The grasp on her hand relaxes and as she watches the 4-year-old drift off to sleep, she smiles.

"You must be good with kids," a petite, dark-haired woman begins quietly from her position by the wall, where she has been doing a silent observation. "Thank you. I know you must be busy and you have so many things to do, but…she loves your company. Very few people are capable of luring her to sleep. Thank you."

"It's okay," she says modestly. "She's an angel and really no trouble at all."

"Will she be all right?"

"A day or two and she'll be ready for discharge. It's just a case of very mild food poisoning. She'll be home before you know it."

Pain flashes across the mother's face. "Sometimes I think she'd rather stay here than at home." But she gives the doctor no chance to ask what she means by the odd comment, because she turns away and takes the seat that is just vacated by her daughter's bed.

_Well. Now that is one abrupt end to a conversation._

She steps away from the ward, aware that there are other duties to be done. As she grabs a clipboard from the front counter, she notices a hand bouquet of lilies and gerberas wrapped in soft pink crepe paper. It's breath-taking, she thinks, and feels a pang of envy at the woman who will receive it. "Pretty flowers," she comments.

"Oh." The nurse, distracted momentarily from her reflection, looks up from her compact mirror. "I think they're yours."

She pauses in her writing as the words, 'they're yours', register in her head. "Pardon?"

She has got to be kidding. Nobody sends her flowers.

"I think they're yours," the redhead repeats in a slow deliberate tone, as though she is speaking to a minion. "There's a name on the front of the card. And I didn't see the contents, if that's what you're wondering."

_I'm not._

Meanwhile, the flowers lie on the counter, waiting for her. She approaches it with hesitate steps. A tiny square card sits snug in the midst of the arrangement. Still reluctant to believe that the pretty gift is meant for her, she asks, "Have you any idea who placed this here?"

The woman shrugs with a baffled expression. "It was here when I came back."

She breathes a soundless 'oh'.

"You know, perhaps you should actually open the card to find out."

Her fingers curl around the bouquet. The paper makes a rustling sound as she lifts it up. She looks around, but sees no character lurking about that qualifies as a suspect.

This isn't some kind of joke her colleagues are playing on her, is it?

With her heart tripping over itself, she parts the card and reads the handwritten words silently.

_Hey, Doctor Blondie. You forgot something real important the other day. Left me wondering if you really wasn't interested. But if you are, I'd like to know. I'll be waiting by the entrance of the cafeteria when you're done with the doctoring._

_James Ford_

She flushes at the name signed off at the bottom of the card. How does he know which department she works at? But she is in no mood to figure out a logical explanation. Her eyes fall on the beautiful flowers in her arm and she thinks she is melting.

Guess she'll be knocking off early today.

**

* * *

**

The attraction is there. That she can't deny even if she wants to, which she doesn't, just to make things clear. Even now she feels a strange strong pull towards him.

It's amazing what a single smile can do to her. She tries to still her pounding heart and thinks how ridiculous her emotions are making her feel.

He calls her Doctor Blondie only once and she corrects him almost playfully. She doesn't know why she insists, really. It's not that she doesn't like her nickname or that it bugs her incessantly. But he takes it good-naturedly and attempts to adhere to calling her Juliet.

During the short ride in her car to one of the nearby restaurants, she finds out that he works as a cop, which takes her a little by surprise at first because that is much rather the last occupation she expects him to have. Also, he's pretty much alone in the city because he just moved here a few months ago. That's as far as their conversation goes before they reach their destination. And now, they sit at the table meant for two beside one of the large window panels that overlook the streets and its traffic.

She starts to put her arms on the table but remembers just in time that it is rude to do so. She places her hands back on her lap and wonders if they have finally run out of topics to discuss.

Music plays in the background. She has a feeling she knows the song that's on but the title lies just beyond her grasp. She turns her gaze to him and returns his smile, one that holds a touch of nervousness. This is getting really awkward, she thinks. If it gets really bad, maybe she'll excuse herself to make a trip to the restroom.

But their food arrives then and she looks up at the waitress gratefully. He ordered pasta. She ordered a baked fish with rice. Both entries come with soup. Cream of mushroom. She takes a spoonful.

_Hm. Tastes just like Campbell. I wonder…_

"The pasta's good," he begins after watching her pause. It relieves the bit of uncomfortable tension that hangs in the air and she breaks into a chuckle.

"It does look good, but now anything that isn't macaroni and cheese or kids' meals looks good to me." Then she adds, as if in defense, "We do try to have balanced meals at home. Just that microwaving or having take-out is a lot faster and convenient."

"Hey, I'm guilty of doin' it the easy way too. Don't be so hard on yourself."

"That's how doctors should be, James." She says in jest but honestly, she doesn't quite know. It isn't so bad if she only has herself to care for. A sister who is stricken with cancer and a toddler who needs proper nutrients make things a little more complicated. That's what she tells him anyway.

He studies her before remarking, "Life ain't a bed of roses for you. With all that's goin' on."

Her spoon stills in the porcelain bowl. She slowly puts it down. "No, we do fine, especially with Julian around. He's a joy to have. He does all the crazy antics that he doesn't even realize is so silly and it brings smiles to our faces when life just gets tough, you know?" Her lips curl at the corners. "Not an easy mission to accomplish when we're both beyond dead tired. My sister and I need the laughs in our lives." She bites her lip then, wondering what prompted all that to come out and why she feels so at ease revealing such personal thoughts. She barely knows the other party. Picking up her spoon again, she scoops up a clump of rice.

But the next time she looks at him, he is smiling, and it makes her feel a little better somehow. Most guys will be heading out the door by now but apparently, he isn't one of those guys.

He finishes his pasta before she does her rice and orders a slice of apple pie. Again another surprise, but it is all very interesting. To see her assumptions based on first impressions proven wrong. He offers to get her dessert but she declines. Rice is very filling, she says.

"The first time we met," he asks. "You said I look familiar. I'm curious. Do I resemble an ex-boyfriend?"

What a strange question. She throws him a bemused look. "Should you?"

"Maybe I remind you of one of your many exes. A pretty doctor like you should be attractin' many suitors. But if not, well," he shrugs and a grin splits his face. "That's good news for me."

A self-conscious laugh escapes. "Trust me. I'm hardly a man-magnet, but I have been married before. Not a pleasant memory, to be honest. And you bear no resemblance to him."

_Thank God for that._

"If it's of any comfort, you also remind me of someone," he says earnestly. "And I don't remember who. And no, you don't look like an ex-girlfriend of mine either," he adds in humor.

When they're done, he picks up the bill, insisting that he pay for the meal. It is not often a man offers to pay for dinner – at least not in her case – and she thanks him. He asks if he can walk her to her car and of course, she lets him. Isn't that a sweet gesture?

"You liked the food?"

"It was nice," she tells him. It isn't a lie, is it?

Well, okay. Maybe it is a small white lie.

She asks him the same question in return and he says, "Not too bad, but I think the soup came outta a can. Reminds me of what I used to drink when I was a kid. Campbell."

She doesn't know whether she ought to laugh or demand to know if he's a mind reader of some sorts. Maybe he's telepathic. Or maybe it's just another mere coincidence.

Damn. If this keeps up, her 'mere coincidence' reasoning is no longer going to work. There are already too many to count.

"That bruise," she says instead, focusing on the shiner on his jaw. "Is that from work?"

He touches it in surprise, as if he has forgotten it is there. "Yeah. Some chap got a little too violent. I happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. It's fine. I get them often."

"Used to it, I suppose."

"Yeah, well…small price to pay for having the job I always wanted. 'sides, you get to rid this place of crime. Best of both worlds, I say."

As they draw nearer, she sees her car parked between a black Mercedes Benz and a lime green VW with a Disney character hanging from the rear view mirror. Those must have come after she did, she concludes, because she remembers parking between two empty lots when they arrived.

"I'll give you a ride back to the hospital," she offers when they have stopped by her vehicle.

"Thanks, but I can make it from here. You should head home. It's gettin' late."

She glances inside the car where the bouquet lay in the compartment between the seats. She looks back at him, brushing her hair behind one ear. "Thanks for dinner…and the flowers. They're lovely."

"I'm glad you like them." He stuffs his hands in his pockets with a boyish smile. "I'll call you, Juliet, now that I finally have your number." He winks, then, steps back and waits for her to drive off.

She reaches home a little before ten. Her sister sits on the couch watching a talk show but the attention is immediately diverted onto her when she walks through the door with flowers in her arms. Rachel demands to know who sent her those and the story tumbles out with little prompting. At the end, she doesn't know who feels more pleased with the date. Herself or her sister.

Rachel pats her on the arm and says confidently, "I'm sure he'll call."

Yeah, well. Maybe.

But she falls asleep that night with a smile on her face and dreams of a blond cop and an island.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

He admits he has his fair share of fooling around with girls. But he has to make it clear that he no longer sees himself as a playboy. That was way back in the past, and even then, he did not set out intentionally to break any hearts, nor get his broken. There were girls whom he thought he loved which in the end, turned out to be mere illusions. That was what he discovered in the process of growing up.

His friends still tease him and call him the swinging bachelor just because he has no long-term girlfriend. Sure, he knows there's an endless line of girls all waiting to fall over his feet, ready to satisfy his every need. But if all he wants is someone to butter him up and give him pleasure, he may as well make the occasional visits to call girls. Not that he does, of course. He's just making a point.

Here's a secret. He likes women who doesn't just play around or are looking for a fling. He likes women who are serious about the relationship, who are searching for commitment, who aren't afraid to tell him he's wrong when he's made a mistake and not just sweet-talk him.

Nobody knows that. But at this point of time in his life, it appears to him that the person who may be the one is taking the form of woman named Juliet Burke.

He never met anyone quite like her before, though there was one girl who did carry a whole lot of baggage into the relationship, but she is not in the least bit similar to Juliet. To be honest, he never felt an attraction to women like her in his entire life, but this time – not trying to be clichéd here, but the situation calls for it – he sensed an almost instant connection. There is something significantly different about her that sets her apart from all the other women.

He remembers the way her crystalline eyes light up when she talks about her family, the habit she has of biting her lower lip when she's deep in thought, of how many times during dinner she unconsciously pushed the wisps of hair back when they fell to cover her face. He thinks about how she smiled when she thanked him for the flowers and wonders if calling her the day after will be too pushy.

* * *

She is last to leave the conference room. The seminar ended nearly half-an-hour ago and by now, there is no one left lingering. She grasps the straps of her bag and hooks them over her shoulder, engrossed in reading the last couple of notes that she jotted down. As she walks out from the room, a breeze from nowhere it seems, sweeps a loose paper from her file. It dances around her and she follows it, hand, outstretched, turning a full circle in annoyed exasperation. It finally settles on the floor, landing just in front of a pair of black shoes that are shiny enough to reflect the ceiling lights.

"Playing tag?"

She looks up. "Oh," she says in surprise. "Hi."

"Hey." Jack Shephard bends down to retrieve the piece of paper from the floor. As he holds it out to her, she accepts it with a thank you and puts it back securely in the file.

"Good talk, huh?"

"Yeah, it was," she replies, meeting his gaze. "I didn't see you. Were you there?"

"No, I'm just passing through actually. Didn't attend this one, but it sounds like it was a good session."

She nods her affirmation and a passing smile lightens up his usually somber expression. At some point of time, their conversation ends and they say their goodbyes. She goes back to her department, intent on checking on her cases and finishing up a report that is due on Monday. Through the day, she'll have the odd moments when she'll wonder if _he_ will call her, but the thought is quickly replaced by other matters. Before she knows it, the day is over and the weekend has arrived.

A song by Petula Clark, 'Downtown' she believes, plays through hidden overhead speakers as she meanders through the long aisles of a supermarket. It is considered still early to be out on a Saturday for most of the residents living around the area and she finds herself to be one of the few shoppers choosing to buy their groceries in the morning.

It is unusually chilly inside and she shakes off a shiver as she pushes the trolley past the baking essentials towards where loaves of bread sit side by side on the shelves. Without sparing a glance at other brands, she reaches out for the ones she always gets. The first she pulls off the shelf is whole-wheat honey and the other is white, for Julian, who is fussy about what he eats.

They'll be going to the beach today. Rachel has everything planned out, even down to what they'll accomplish each hour. They'll build castles in the sand, play in the water, fly kites and enjoy a stress-free day. She smiles, thinking of how Julian will probably not retain any memories about their outing. She herself doesn't remember anything that happened before the age of four, except a faint memory of when she landed in hospital with a dislocated shoulder.

A little further down takes her to where they keep the spreads. She picks out a blue-lid jar with a label that identifies it as peanut butter. In it goes into the trolley to join the breads. There is no need to get jam, she thinks, as there is still enough to get them through a month.

Her trip leaves her lugging three large bags of groceries to her car. She heaves them into the backseat before getting into the driver's seat. Slotting the key in, she starts the engine and pulls out of the lot.

The sky is a light blue and the sun hidden by wisps of clouds. She pushes away the worry that it may rain. After all, hasn't it been said that ninety percent of humans' worries do not materialize?

She sees a run-down, dusty-maroon car by the road shoulder and someone, probably the driver, waving her down. She hesitates before making the decision to pull over. The man jogs to her window.

He is short and slightly pudgy with eyes that seem to bulge from his face. He has got the teacher look down pat with a cream-colored knitted sleeveless sweater over a formal shirt and black-rimmed glasses resting on the ridge of his nose. A friendly smile lets her know he means no harm.

She winds down her window. "Car trouble?" She asks politely.

"It appears to be so," he replies almost regretfully. "I rented it just yesterday when I arrived at the airport. It's just my luck I can't fix whatever's wrong with the vehicle." He scrunches his features up in exasperation and a laugh bubbles up at how comical he looks.

She swallows her amusement. "Would you like me to have a look at it?"

"No, it's okay. Don't get your hands dirty," he tells her, but she thinks he probably doesn't believe a woman can be much help with mechanical problems. "Do you think you could call the tow company for me? My battery's flat."

So she makes the call and relays their location, the number plate of the car and the man's name to the woman on the other end. Benjamin Linus, he informs her. She offers to stay with him until the tow truck arrives but he refuses. With his profuse thanking and his cheery 'have a nice day' ringing in her head, she rejoins the sparse traffic and soon, he becomes a mere speck in her rearview mirror.

When she reaches home, Julian is already out of bed and her sister is nowhere to be seen. Her nephew lies on the couch with his thumb in his mouth, eyes glued to the morning cartoons on television. He learned how to turn on the set just days ago and she is beginning to regret teaching him how. Now he does that for fun.

She sets her purchases on the kitchen table before coming out to greet him. He rolls around to sit up, dwarfed in his oversized PJs patterned with sailboats and yellow ducks. His blond hair sticks up in every possible direction.

She lowers herself beside him, soothing his hair back. "Where's Mommy?"

He blinks, but his gaze never shifts from the screen. She flicks a glance at the television, where a mouse with a distorted head types furiously on the keyboard. For a fleeting moment, she wonders when cartoons have become different from the ones she had in her childhood.

She is tugged back to the present when Julian clambers onto her lap. "Hungry," he mumbles.

She returns to the kitchen and reaches into the refrigerator for the milk carton. As she pours milk into his favourite blue plastic cup with a printing of Bob the Builder on it, she hears the shuffling of feet and looks up.

Rachel emerges from the hallway. She yawns, rubbing sleep from her eyes, and heads towards the nearest chair.

"Finally up."

Rachel answers with a groan, head resting on her hands, elbows on the table.

"You better get going and bathe if you want to keep to what we planned," she warns, pulling open the top drawer for a straw and sticking it into the milk. "Julian! Kitchen."

Rachel turns her head slightly in her direction. "When did that little critter get up? He should've woken me up when he left the bed."

She shrugs. "He was up when I came back, watching some weird cartoon."

Julian toddles in then. She lifts him up and proceeds to blow raspberries on his belly, eliciting a sudden burst of shrieking giggles from him. She sets him on the high chair. "Finish your milk then we'll go bathe, sweetheart. We're going to the beach today. You excited?"

He nods his head vigorously with an open-mouthed smile on his face.

"Good boy." She turns to her sister then. "You want a sandwich, Rachel? I can make some while you get ready."

Rachel waves a no at her. "I'm not hungry. I'm justtired."

"You slept early, Rach." Concern creeps onto her face, causing a wrinkle between her brows. "If you're not feeling well, I don't think we should make the trip, Rachel. I'll bring you to the doctor's."

"I'm fine, Juliet. I just had a bad night. I need some rest, that's all. It's no reason to cancel our plans for today. We've been looking forward to this for the past week."

She is about to make another protest when the phone rings. With an exasperated shake of her head, she strides out of the kitchen and picks up the phone. "Hello, Juliet speaking."

A warm, distinguishable voice travels through the line to her. Her breath catches in her throat.

"I was thinkin, do you have any plans for today? If you're free, we could go out. Catch a movie or somethin."W

Rachel, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, mouths 'who's it' out of curiosity. She replies with a silent 'James'. Her sister raises her brows and she merely shrugs before returning to the conversation on hand.

"Uh, actually, I am rather occupied today," she says in apology. "I have—" She breaks off, distracted by the sight of her sister waving her arms in the air. "Hold on." She covers the mouthpiece.

Rachel moves towards her with an excited gait. "He asking you out?"

"Well, yeah, but it's today." She frowns a bit at the regret she feels. "We're going out today."

"Doesn't matter, Juliet. We'll go another day."

She shakes her head even before she has finished hearing Rachel's suggestion.

"Or you can ask him to come along."

_What? _She shoots her sister a look of disbelief, but at the expectant stare, she places the phone back to her ear in resignation. "James?"

His warm voice comes through, teasing. "Still waitin, Doctor Blondie."

Already she feels the smile tugging at her lips. "I can't go out with you today. I've made plans with family to go to the beach." She glances at Rachel then and continues. "But my sister says you're welcome to join us if you're up to it."

There is a pause. Is it a hesitant silence or a thinking one? She can't figure out. "We can go out some other time if you'd rather not," she says so he has a way out if he doesn't want to go but doesn't know how to tell her without being rude.

"Which beach?" He asks so unexpectedly that for a moment, the answer slips from her mind and she fumbles to reply. This ought to be interesting, she thinks as she ends the call a minute later. She turns to her sister, who must be dying to know what transpired between them, and says with a nonchalant smile, "He's coming."

* * *

"Coke," she tells the stall vendor. "And one bottle of mineral water. Thanks."

She takes the drinks and heads back to the grassy area where few trees offer shade from the glaring afternoon sun. On her way there, a brunette, with hair full of curls and a cap low over her face, knocks into her. A can slips from her grasp and topples onto the ground.

"Sorry," the stranger mumbles, ducking her head before she hurries off.

Her forehead puckers at the abruptness of the insincere apology. But seeing no reason to pursue the matter, she lets the woman go – she already vanished anyway – and searches for her Coke can. It rolled to a stop near one of the benches and she picks it up, grimacing at the collected dirt and sand.

Oh well, it can all be wiped off.

When she returns to their spot, she passes the mineral water to her sister, who is reclining on a mat with a floppy straw hat and large sunglasses. She takes it with a thank you, uncapping the bottle and taking a long drink.

Not too far away, she sees Julian capering around James, who's still attempting to get the kite in the air. She clicks her tongue. "Where's the wind today?"

"It's there. Can't you feel it?" Rachel licks her finger and sticks it in the air.

"Funny."

She retracts her finger. "But it may be blowing the wrong direction. Or else it's blowing right and Mr James is trying to fly the kite in the wrong direction."

"He'll get it up," she predicts, and as though he heard her, he does, and the kite is up in the air. They hear Julian's delighted yells as the wind catches the fabric of the kite and raises it in the sky. "There we go."

"Handy man, isn't he," Rachel remarks from behind her shades. "We could use someone like him."

"If you just need someone to fix things around the house, Rachel, there're plenty of men out there willing."

Her sister raises her eyebrow and stares at her. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do." She slides her teeth thoughtfully along her lower lip, then, gives a sigh. "It's much too early to assume anything. I mean, he's fun, and he's sweet, and…" she pauses, watching James join her nephew in a series of excited hoots. A smile tilts her lips. "It's just too early, Rachel."

"Well," her sister pushes herself up. "You know how I hope things work out for you. He's a good man." She aims a sideways look at her before walking off towards the male pair. Julian spots his mother approaching and with a little jump, points a stubby finger at the soaring kite. James tugs at it a couple of times then hands over the reel to Rachel. Her heart skips a beat as she notices him glancing in her direction. As he makes his way towards her, she feels her palms moisten.

"Hey."

"Hi," she replies softly as he settles beside her. "Nice job with the kite."

He chuckles. "I haven't done this for a while," he says then, stretching out his legs before him. "Forgot how much fun this can be." He smiles at her. "Thanks for the invitation."

She shrugs. "Rachel's idea," she admits almost coyly. "But I'm glad you came. They like you."

He grins. "I like them too." Light blue eyes meet hers and his voice softens a tad. "And you."

Her cheeks warm at his words. "Me too." Realizing what she said, she backtracks. "I mean, I like you too." Feeling herself redden even further, she searches for something else to say. "Want a drink?"

"Naw, I ain't thirsty. Besides, I'm gonna get into a lot of wet soon."

Minutes later, she finds herself walking alongside him by the water's edge, pressing her feet into the sand. She's not one for surfing, but she looks at the waves and guesses that they are barely high enough for the sport. Yet there are still guys in the water, probably trying to catch a few good ones. As he splashes into the ocean, she scoops off the top layer of sand, which is a little too hot for her taste, and makes a comfortable seat in the dug hole.

But fifteen minutes later, he comes running up to her with droplets rolling off him. She lifts her head towards him in puzzlement, wondering if he was done with having his fun in the water already.

"Wanna give it a shot?" is what comes out of his mouth.

Thinking she heard wrong, she squints up at him. "Pardon?"

"Ride a wave," he explains. "Do you wanna try it?"

"Uh, no," she declines immediately. Sure she has tried it before, but that doesn't qualify as experience. _Not at all._ "I'm not a surfer. I—"

"You don't have to stand on it. Just lie on the board and let the wave carry you."

"Really. It's all right."

"Come on, Doctor Blondie. It's easy. I know you've got it in you." He flashes an encouraging smile. "It feels like flyin'."

She doesn't know how he finally managed to talk her into it, but he does. He lets her have his orange surfboard.

"What about you?"

"Don't worry about it," he winks at her. Jogging to a fellow surfer, they exchange a few words before she sees him reach out to accept the man's board.

"Problem solved," he says to her with a grin. "I'll wait for you out." He runs back to the water and sliding in, starts paddling into the distance.

With a sigh, she watches him swim away. _Well, I guess this is it._ She unbuttons the top she's wearing and puts it carefully on top of her sandals, next to the shirt he handed to her for safekeeping. "Don't blow away," she tells it and a half-naked surfer stops and stares at her. She ignores him and turns around to face the waves. She came wearing a swimsuit top just in case Julian wanted to play in the water, but this, trying to surf because she was asked to, was most certainly not what she had on her mind when she tried it on. With a deep breath to ease the jitters inside, she grabs his board and heads hesitantly into the endless ocean of unknown possibilities.

_Flying. Think of flying. _She says to herself and lets out a puff. _Right._

When she plunges in, the coldness of the water nearly steals the breath from her and the intention of turning back is overwhelming. But a few metres ahead, he looks behind him, at her, and lifts one hand with a big grin. By that time, changing her mind was no longer an option.

The wave came unexpectedly and caught her unaware. The board slips from beneath her and its side whacks her hard beneath her chin. Water gushes up her nostrils in merciless streams. She flails, disorientated in the churning water, first kicking wildly in one direction, then the next, but she soon realizes she is unable to find the surface.

Panic grips her chest with an icy hand, choking her. But just when the edges of her vision start to darken, she feels an arm wrapping firmly around her waist. She clutches it and they burst through the surface to much-needed air. She sputters, gasping desperately for oxygen. Her eyes are wet and she does not know if it is the saltwater or tears of her own.

He keeps his arm tight around her, the other pushing the drenched hair from her face. "It's okay. You're okay. It always happens the first time," he soothes.

She clings on to him, not knowing why such a rush of terror fills her. She is a good swimmer. She would not have drowned.

Would she have?

* * *

It is a cool night and the neighbourhood is quiet, but she is unable to fall asleep. An overwhelming sense of uneasiness stirs within her, making slumber an impossible task. Of course, it can be partly due to the excruciating sunburn she has on her shoulders. Or perhaps it is the bruise that is forming on her jaw, thanks to that little incident out at the beach. She rolls over and sits up on the bed. Maybe a drink of water will help.

She pads quietly along the hallway towards the kitchen. When the movement of a shadow catches her attention, she freezes. "Rach?"

Her sister moves into view.

She relaxes and rubs her neck with one hand. "Can't sleep? It's really late."

"I got thirsty…and I'm not feeling so well," Rachel adds reluctantly as she takes a seat on the floor, back leaning against the wall. "I guess this means I've been spending too much time indoors and need to get out more."

"No," she says with slow deliberation. "This means I'm going to bring you to the doctor tomorrow. No," she cuts her sister off before she can interrupt. "You've been resting. We've been doing everything right, but it doesn't seem like any of it is working. Just to be on the safe side."

Rachel throws her a look, one which she returns it without flinching. Finally she drops her gaze. "Fine," she mutters. "But you know people like me tend to feel unwell from time to time."

"Better safe than sorry." She joins her sister on the ground and fixes her eyes on the clock on the wall opposite them. It is five past midnight. She clasps her hands together and rests them on her knees. "You know Julian can't do without his mom."

_Also meaning I can't do without my sister._

Rachel merely snorts. "Don't be ridiculous, Juliet. You make it sound like I'm about to die any moment."

"I'm just trying to emphasize the importance of you in the family."

"We've made it through cancer once. There's nothing else to fear."

"Uh-huh."

They both sit in silence for the next couple of minutes. They used to do that a lot in their old house in Miami, at least whenever her sister wasn't sick and recuperating in her bed, until they moved here for her new job at the hospital. Then they hadn't much time to spend together anymore. Nowadays, while she worked, Rachel sometimes volunteered at the nearest childcare center where there she could also keep an eye on Julian.

"You all right?"

She returns to the present and turns her gaze at her sister. "Yeah."

"You got really quiet. Something bothering you?"

"No."

"Work? Or maybe a certain tall blonde?" Rachel leans towards her and lifts her brows. "You know, I think he's a keeper."

She lets out a laugh. "No. None of those mentioned."

Rachel shakes her head. "Always so close-mouthed." She looks at her and lays a gentle hand on her face, tilting it so she can view the injury better. "Does it still hurt?"

"Not half as bad as it will tomorrow," she states truthfully.

"I have yet to really thank James for getting you out. If he wasn't there…"

"If he wasn't there, I wouldn't have drowned because I would not have gone out by myself."

Her sister pulls her hand back with a sigh. "Sometimes you really make me worry, Juliet."

"I make _you_ worry?" She can't resist breaking into an amused smile. "You're the one who doesn't take proper care of yourself."

"You know I would beg to differ, but I won't bother because you won't agree with me," Rachel tells her dryly. "Nearly thirty-six years growing up with you. I know I can't change your mind. Stubborn is your middle name."

"It runs in the genes, don't you think?"

By then the second hand of the clock is touching the luminous number nine. Twelve forty-five. It isn't long until her sister retires to her bedroom. She wonders if her mind is relaxed enough for her to let her sleep now. She runs a hand over tired eyes and rests her head against the wall. On the bright side, at least it's still the weekend and she'll get to sleep in if she wants to.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks for the reviews! I'm so sorry for taking ages to update. I haven't forgotten WYR too, so don't worry! I'm just a little caught up with university applications and RL. I've got a writing test on Friday, so wish me all the best. :)

eyeon: Shirtless James wasn't in the plans until KaydenceRei mentioned it. So we've got her to thank. xD And yes, that was Kate. Want to see more of her? And anything that seems intentional, is intentional. ;)

* * *

**Chapter 3**

She sits in one of the dull pink chairs lined in a row against the wall, leaning forward with elbows resting on her thighs. A small pile of multi-coloured M&Ms lay gathered in the valley of her hand. It won't be long until they start leaking their colours onto her palm.

She chooses a blue one and puts it in her mouth. They are meant for Julian, who was fidgeting beside her. He had his knees drawn to his chin, pulling the Velcro of his shoes apart and making a tearing sound that got on her nerves, so she thought he would quiet down a little if she offered him something sweet. And he did, promptly obeying upon hearing her promise of chocolates.

She pops in another piece of the milky treat. One might think he would already be used to hospitals and the atmosphere, seeing how much time he spends in the building.

Just then, her nephew returns from where he was loitering at the shelf stuffed with children's books, recent newspapers and battered magazines that have been flicked through too many times. He holds out a tattered book that looks like it barely lasted the past ten years of use. "Read," he demands.

She shifts her hand and offers him the chocolate instead, much too occupied with worrying if Rachel's cancer has made a comeback.

Julian draws nearer and peers at the M&Ms. After some consideration, he picks out a green one. But he is undeterred and it isn't long until he thrusts the book at her again. "Read?"

Having no other choice, she agrees. Giving him the last chocolate, she rummages in her bag for a wet tissue to wipe their hands before lifting him up onto her lap. She catches a glimpse of the cover before he turns it to the first page.

_Welcome to the dark, damp cave where nasty gremlins reside and little children never get to leave. _

She wrinkles her nose, knowing for sure she will not read this to her young, impressionable nephew. "Sweetheart, why don't you get another book?"

"Why," he inquires.

She struggles to put her reason in simple terms that he understands. "Because…it's not a good story. It will give you nightmares."

"But I want this book."

She tries coaxing him. "We'll choose a nicer book."

He shakes his head defiantly. "No."

"Julian."

"_No_," his little voice rises.

In the waiting room, it is expected for the visitors to maintain a certain level of silence at all times. Even the television is noiseless. She feels the burning stares of disapproval and knows that from their perspective, it must seem like she's a total failure at disciplining this boy. She keeps her gaze firmly fixed on her nephew as she sets him on the floor and turns him to face her. She aims a long, stern look at him, something Rachel always does when Julian misbehaves. It is a solution that actually works.

For her sister.

His lower lip protrudes out, his eyebrows lower. But much to her surprise, instead of bursting into tears, he climbs back into his chair and resumes fiddling with his shoes in sulky silence.

She sighs silently in relief.

_That's a close shave._

"Always stubborn at that age, aren't they?"

She straightens. To her right, a woman smiles sympathetically at her. She manages one back.

"You doing ok?"

She is surprised at the show of concern, but welcomes it all the same. "We've been through worse times," she admits.

The woman laughs. "I'm Rose," she introduces. Her dark eyes twinkle. "You must be Juliet."

Her mouth falls open slightly. "I'm sorry. Do I know you?"

"Probably not. I've seen you around on the other levels," she explains. "I've been here so many times, it's almost like my second home. I probably know the names of half the staff here," she jokes. Then she angles her head towards Julian. "Is he your kid?"

Being in the company of a child must make people automatically conclude that she mothers him, she thinks before pushing away the intruding thought. "No. He's my sister's. We're waiting for her. She hasn't been feeling well, so…" she trails off, realizing she's in danger of rambling.

"I'm sure your sister will be just fine," Rose says reassuringly. She leans forward then to meet Julian's inquisitive gaze, who has perked up enough to observe the newcomer with child-like interest. "Hello there," she greets.

Julian purses pink lips, probably wondering if he should do the honor of greeting the stranger. As Juliet cocks her eyebrows at him, he returns to examining his footwear.

"I'm sorry," she says. "He's not very…open with people he doesn't know."

"Oh, it's okay. Even grown people take some time to warm up to strangers."

Is it possible to have a deep liking for someone you've only met for a few minutes? The woman practically generates friendliness and genuine interest, something which she appreciates. She is all too familiar with people ask her questions out of necessity and it being more like 'touch-and-go'.

"He looks like you," Rose remarks. "What's his name?"

"Julian."

Rose looks amused. "Julian and Juliet. You must be a really good sister."

She tucks blond hair behind her ear, a self-conscious gesture. "I didn't expect that. I was surprised when she told me she wanted to name him Julian."

"There must be a good reason why." Rose winks at her.

Just when there is a lull in the conversation, she asks, "Are you waiting for someone? Or do you have an appointment?"

"I'm here to see the doctor," Rose replies in a nonchalant way. "I've got cancer."

For the slightest moment, she is taken aback at how matter-of-fact the woman sounded. Her eyes flicker down then back to Rose with a hint of regret. "I'm sorry," she says, the only phrase that comes to her mind.

"Don't be. You didn't cause it, did you?" She says lightheartedly. "There's no one to be blamed for this. I thank God for the days I'm not confined to my bed and limited to throwing up. And even then I'm grateful that I still get to spend those days with my husband. Make the best out of the worse, they say."

The uncommon positivity strikes a chord in her. She studies her newfound companion quizzically. "You make it sound so easy."

"Trust me, honey, it isn't. It takes lots of practice. And patience."

As she wonders if she should share the fact that her sister is a cancer survivor and maybe extract a little more advice, Rose pushes herself up from the chair. It seems to require more effort from her than that simple action ought to have taken.

"I have to get going," the woman says with finality. "It's been lovely talking to you, Juliet. I hope we meet again someday." She waves at Julian, who at last decides to be sociable and returns a small wave.

She is left in thoughtful silence and is only pulled from her musing when she feels a small body pressing against her legs. It is Julian. In his hands she sees another book which is in a worse state than the previous one. Apparently, he has forgotten that he is supposed to be mad at her.

"Read! Read this book," he persists loudly. His jaw set in stubbornness and she is acutely aware of the likeness of his mother in him. Once again, she notices eyes turning towards them but this time is different. She doesn't feel the uncomfortable pricking of unwanted attention. People can stare all they want. She won't be giving a damn about what they think.

* * *

Monday arrives with an overcast sky and the promise of rain. It is barely eight in the morning as he shuffles into the office. A yawn escapes him and he tries to blink the sleep from his eyes. "It's too damn early," he grouses. "Where's my coffee? Didn't get one for me?"

"You sure do whine a lot for a grown man," Miles remarks as he crosses his legs and reclines as far back as he can in his worn black chair. It creaks out a tired sigh.

"And you ain't whinin' 'cause you ain't a grown man."

Miles remains unaffected by his lousy mood. "I'm still curious how you got permission to take such a long break and I don't. You never answered me, even when I asked the _week_ before."

Before he gets a reply out, a snarky voice weaves its way into the conversation.

"And the Ford is back. Did you go on maternity leave, Officer?"

He recognizes the distinct raspy tone even before the one who spoke walks into view.

"Well, if it isn't the battle ax," Miles comments dryly.

She fixes a stony glare at him. "That's Officer Ana to you, _Chang_."

"Whatever."

Ana stops by their desks, arms folded, her signature stance. Her hair is pulled into a tight bun and she shakes her head in a manner meant to be regarded as condescending while she surveys the mess on the tables. "How the hell do you guys work in such filthy conditions?"

"It's not filthy. It's called an organized mess," Miles attempts to explain.

She ignores him and pokes James's soled foot with a boot. He pulls his leg back, irate.

"Late night huh, Ford. I hope Wilson comes in and finds you slacking."

"Bossy as always," Miles grimaces once the feisty officer left. He drains the remnants of cold coffee and dumps the Styrofoam cup in the grey trash bin they share. When an uncommon silence falls between them, he raises his head to peer over the divider in curiosity. James always has something sardonic to add about Ana Lucia. He raps the table top thrice. "Earth calling Ford. Anybody home?"

He grunts. It requires too much effort for his brain to form a comprehensive sentence and besides, he isn't all that willing to answer the previous question.

"Did you bed some stranger last night?"

His eyes fly open. "How did you get to that half-assed deduction?"

"You finally start talking," Miles smirks. "So did you?"

"Go jump off a buildin'."

"Sure, Boss. You jump, I jump," his partner quotes.

It makes a reluctant curve of his lips finally emerge. He rubs his hand over his face, stifling another yawn.

Miles tosses a beige file onto his table, knocking over a small tower of erasers beside a sweet wrapper. "Just got this. Apparently this man mowed down three people then fled the scene."

"Damn," he hits the file with his palm, disgruntled. "When did we get assigned with amateurish cases like this?"

"Hey, be thankful. Remember when Lewy had one where a woman and kid got sliced into pieces? Turned out it was the husband."

"Well, lucky us," he mutters in sarcasm. Flipping the stiff cover of the file, he skims through the rough details easily with an experienced eye. "So, our dinner date still on?"

The woman at the next cubicle, new to their department, sends them an odd look.

"It's not a dinner _date_, Ford," Miles lowers his voice to a hiss. "If you say this in public, people will actually think we're together."

"Ain't we already in public?" When the only response he gets is an annoyed look, he gives a non-committal shrug and returns to his reading. "I can always not go."

"That's not the point, Ford, and you _have_ to go. My mother will skin me alive if she knows you backed out."

"Momma's boy," he ribs his partner with a sudden grin lighting up his face.

Miles hurls a crushed paper ball in his direction. It bounces harmlessly off his chest and rolls onto the floor. "I have no idea what any woman sees in you," he declares in a muted tone. "_No_ idea at all."

"Better pick that up or Ana's gonna see it," he advises as he flips to the last page in the file. "You don't want her gettin' on your case."

He enjoys getting on his comrade's nerves once in a while, just like he knows Miles likes doing the same. Or maybe it's more than just once in a while, but both of them take each other's jesting good-naturedly.

Most of the time.

It may appear to bystanders that the colleagues in the police force don't get along well, but they can't further from the truth. As much as he complains and often has a little fun at the expanse of his comrades, he does enjoy their company.

Even though Miles can sometimes be quite the bugger and Ana often pisses the hell out of him.

At that point of time, another thought which has entirely nothing to do with the current one, wanders into his mind, and all else is forgotten. He pulls out his cell phone from his sling bag. If he's lucky, he'll get at least ten minutes on the phone before the head, who in his opinion is a stick in the mud, arrives. Once the big boss comes, he knows there is no chance in hell that he'll be able to make the call while on duty.

* * *

There is pattering against the roof of the bus and watery trails on the windows. Heavy sheets of rain pour down from the angry sky, splattering on surfaces and making the surroundings a blurred mess of dreary colours. There is a peal of thunder, a sign that the storm will not be ending any time soon.

She shifts ever so slightly at the edge of her seat. This day is not turning out well. First her trusty car refused to start, so she had to rush to catch the bus to work, then, just before she reached the stop, it started to rain and she got drenched because, of course, she forgot to place the umbrella in her bag after leaving it out to dry the other day. She waited twenty minutes for the bus, which very unfortunately was late, so all her rushing was proved to be in vain. During that time, she stood shivering in wet clothes as the chilly wind prickled goosebumps on her arms.

When she thought that was as far as bad luck can go, she unknowingly chose a seat where she has to endure leering from an oversized young man who is most probably still in high school because of his brawn and not his brain. Her skin crawls, feeling eyes freely roam her body. In that one minute, he has managed to inch considerably closer to her. Then his knee bumps her bare one, and she nearly jumps. She sucks in a breath through gritted teeth, hugging her bag to her chest. If the bus isn't so damn crowded, she'll stand and move far away instead of having to sit here under such a derogatory gaze.

Then through the pattering noise of the driving rain, she hears her cell ring.

She bites her lip as she unzips her bag for her phone. What are the odds of it not being her boss calling to enquire her whereabouts? "Hello," she answers, the beginnings of an excuse for her missing presence at the hospital already forming in her mind.

It's the rain, of course. What else can it be?

"Enjoyin' the rain?" A deep voice that drawls like a sweet soothing melody reaches her ears, an unexpected ray of sunlight welcomed in the gloominess.

_Maybe this day will turn out better than I thought._

"Usually, I would, but not this time," she confesses, remembering the misery of the cold. "I'm on the bus. My car died on me this morning. Not the best way to start the day."

"I got a car, you know."

She smiles. "I didn't want to impose."

"This ain't imposin', Juliet."

His words blanket her heart with warmth and suddenly the world doesn't seem to be so cold anymore.

"How's the chin?"

She involuntarily rubs the bruise on her face, feeling slight pain at the pressure applied. "It's fine," she starts to say automatically, then, catches herself. "Well," she begins again. "It's getting better."

"Glad to hear it." He pauses and that moment, she is aware that the wetness on her top makes the material stick to her skin. At least she isn't wearing white today.

"What're you doin' tonight?"

She shrugs, though he can't see. "I'll probably be working overtime. If not, I'll go home and watch Moulin Rouge with Rachel."

"Moulin Rouge? That good? I've never seen it."

"You're not alone in that," she says, pulling at a damp tendril. Which is true. She doesn't know any males who have sat through the entire movie. Most of them have never appreciated the storyline, but it has become one of her favourite movies of all time. And if you ask her, the protagonist deserves the most sympathy, having to live on in agony after the death of his loved one. "It's pretty good. Rachel loves it. She always cries when it gets to the part where the female lead dies in her lover's arms. Very tragic. Quite the sob fest."

Just then, the bus jerks and slows to a stop as the light turns red. She can hear a collective sigh from the passengers. She tries not to emit a sigh herself, thinking of the precious seconds ticking away, and asks, "And you? What's on tonight?"

"Tonight?" He echoes uncertainly. "I—"

"Hope you ask me over and let me stay the night!" An unfamiliar voice in the background quips cheekily, and is followed by James's furious hiss to whomever it was to keep his trap shut. It makes her smile at the side of him that she has never seen.

"Sorry about that," his voices comes back on. "My partner was being a wiseass." He clears his throat. "I was thinkin'…is it all right if you and me go out sometime this week? When you're free."

She feels a warm glow of pleasure. "I'd like that."

"So I'll call maybe tomorrow. That okay with you?"

_Heck, yeah. It's more than okay._

But she only smiles to herself. "Absolutely."


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks for the reviews and sorry for the lack of updates. I know I should be updating more often. Let me know if I'm going too slow, okay? :)

eyeon: Which big guy? And well, there's this thing about Mr Shiny Shoes that I may tie back to...xD

Btw, I made a Juliet video and one of Suliet, so please check them out if you can. You can find the links posted in my profile. Thanks a lot!

* * *

**Chapter 4**

"But I told you earlier. I won't be able to make it down on Tuesday. What's that? You didn't get my e-mail? I sent it two days ago. How could you…yes, I understand, but—"

An airplane, one made out of wood pieces, cuts narrowly before her face but she doesn't even blink. Too caught up with the current conversation, she presses the phone closer to her ear with her shoulder while trying to spread peanut butter on a slice of bread.

Whoever said all women are good at multi-tasking ought to be shot.

"Look, I really wish I could tell you it's nothing important, but it is. I—Julian, sit down—I really have to be there on Tuesday."

"Zoom…zoom…"

She folds the bread into a not-so-perfect triangle and lays it on a blue plastic plate. Covering the mouth of the phone, she instructs, "Sit down and put the plane away, honey."

Julian scrambles down from where he was standing on his chair. His plane dives in the air and crashes hard into his sandwich. "BOOM," he cries happily, and the thought that the sound effect is more suitable for setting off a bomb than a plane crashing crosses her mind for a second.

There is now an unsightly dent in middle of the bread, but it does not bother the child one bit. She'll have to remember to check the nose of the toy plane for traces of peanut butter and clean it off before Julian chances upon it and let curiosity get the best of him. Nothing intrigues the child more than coming across a strange thing he finds. She cringes as she recalls the memory of him touching the dried jam – who knows how long it has been there – on his train wheels and then sticking the finger in his mouth. Her sister nearly had a fit when she saw what her son was doing and got him to rinse his mouth with saltwater.

She hears her supervisor yakking on the other end and resignedly returns to finish the conversation. "Two hours? Are you sure it'll only be for two hours? Okay. I'll be there for two hours but then I will have to leave, Sandra. You know that. Okay. I'll see you tomorrow. Right. Bye." She jabs the 'end call' button with a sudden rush of frustration. Now she'll have to rearrange all her plans for that day.

"What's that?"

She twists her head to look where the toddler is pointing.

It's her cup, untouched since fifteen minutes ago when she poured herself a drink. "Cranberry juice," she answers, smiling faintly at her nephew, who has his uneaten sandwich in one hand. If she knows him well enough, he'll be asking for a sip.

He looks at his milk then at her cup and back to his drink again, as if realizing that there's more to breakfast liquids than just dairy products. As she waits for his response, she observes how his hair is falling in his eyes. She'll need to bring him for a haircut very soon. When he gazes up at her and reaches in the direction of the juice, an unspoken request, she complies.

"Just a little," she warns and allows him to have just enough of a taste, which seems to sit well with him. He pulls away, wrinkling his nose in distaste. Oh, he definitely prefers milk, she thinks in amusement as she picks up the spreading knife to continue making sandwiches.

The sound of the shower being turned off distracts her for a second. Rachel will be out soon. She glances at Julian, who is clearly tempted to grab his plane and head for the living room. He isn't even near finishing half his breakfast. He'll be in for a scolding once her sister makes her appearance.

When he tries to inconspicuously slip down from his chair, she says clearly, "You haven't finished."

"Not hungry."

That is the response tossed to her every alternate day. She ponders for a second, remembering what her mother used to do during her childhood to get her to eat, then, says in an almost cajoling tone, "You know who will be here afterwards?"

He looks at her warily. "Who?"

"James," she replies, knowing full well how much her nephew adores him.

It is amazing how quickly he brightens at the news, his eyes lighting up like two candle flames.

"Superman?"

"Uh-huh, so if you want to play with him…you have to finish your breakfast." Guilt pricks her for using such a manipulative method to get him to eat, but sometimes you can't help going the easy way. At least she isn't making empty promises like she knows some parents do. By the time Rachel enters the kitchen, the damaged sandwich is gone and Julian has returned to flying his plane about the house. She hopes he doesn't entertain ideas like smashing the toy into the television or anything breakable.

* * *

The sound of rapid typing mixes with an off-key voice singing – no, it's akin to yowling – a mangled version of SpongeBob Squarepants's theme song in the living room. It seeps into the room despite the bedroom door being an obstacle. She lets out a sigh, wondering if she'll ever manage to finish her report in time for the deadline. Picking up a piece of paper from the stack on her desk, she tries to soak in the information in the form of neatly-printed words to no avail.

"Liiieeet! Superman's here!"

She takes a passing glance at the digital clock. It's not even eleven.

She pushes her chair away from the grey desk, ignoring its squeak of protest at the rough treatment. By the time she emerges from her room, her nephew is flying around the room in James's arms, squealing ecstatically.

She walks over to Rachel, who does not bother to hide a smile.

"I didn't hear the doorbell."

"Must have been too engrossed in your work," Rachel replies. "He rang twice." Observing them, she shakes her head. "It's always noisy when he comes."

"You know you love that."

Her sister doesn't deny the statement. They watch James chase the toddler, who's howling in delight as the man pretends to be some creepy, gigantic monster. "He's attached to James by the hip every time they're together. It's always so hard to tear him away when he has to leave."

She has to concur. It makes her wonder how different the boy would be if he has a father in his life. She remembers wishing her dad was around during those years and tries in vain to fend off the thought that perhaps Julian would be having a better childhood if he has both parents.

Rachel looks at her sharply then, almost as though she knows what her younger sibling's thinking about. It's not hard to guess either. For the last couple of days, she has been bringing up the topic of dating to Rachel. Since she is now 'officially' attached, she believes it's time for her sister to get her own love life moving. Just because one's a mother doesn't mean she can't have a social life, isn't that right? Besides, she is certain Julian will be absolutely thrilled to have a male role model around while he grows up.

James doesn't count, of course.

Rachel wasn't too receptive to the idea the first time and still isn't, so she refrains from saying anything about it.

When James finally sets Julian back on his feet, he does so with an exaggerated puff. The little boy staggers around, giggling to himself as the tall blonde jaunts over to them. He has on a white T-shirt with bolded words printed vertically and dark blue jeans.

"Hello, ladies. How are you all doin' today?"

"Not so good, James. You've been here for like, what, the third time? And I still see you getting my son chocolates," Rachel clucks her tongue in mock disapproval. "Will you be the one chasing him around the house when he refuses to sleep at bedtime?"

"My gift is entirely out of goodwill, ma'am," he says in defense.

"Yeah, Rachel. Don't pick on him."

Rachel takes in James's partial smugness when Juliet steps in and turns to her sister in disbelief. "Only two months or so and you're ganging up with him against me? Oh, Juliet."

"Don't put me in a difficult position, guys."

"Alright, alright. You guys better get going before it gets late. I'm sure Juliet still has work to finish up when she returns."

She sighs. "She knows me well."

Just as they are about to leave, Julian runs out of the room, holding his model airplane, his loose pants nearly dropping in his haste as he states determinedly, "I wanna go."

Both she and James hesitate at the door. Rachel, understanding the situation and having encountered it one too many times, kneels down beside her son and places one hand on his back. "Not today, cookie. Today, Juliet and James are going alone."

He says nothing but wears such an utterly crestfallen expression that she has no heart to leave him in this state. Apparently, neither does James.

"Well," he begins with a deep breath. "I'd love to have Bud come with us." He lifts his eyebrows at Juliet. "If you don't mind."

How can she say no?

With a couple of goodbyes and a kiss from Julian to his mother, they cross the driveway to her car. Her eyes snag on the yellow sign that hangs at the back of the car. It says 'Rockstar in the making' with a picture of a tiny kid in diapers jamming on an electric guitar. James gave it to them when he came to their house the first time. Rachel got a kick out of it and stuck it on the car the day after. That was also the day Rachel told her she knew James is serious about the relationship.

She straps in with Julian already in the child car seat as James starts the car.

"Just need to drop by a friend's house to collect some work stuff," he tells her. "That all right?"

They ride together for nearly twenty minutes before stopping in front of a two-storey building with pretty curtains by the windows. From inside the car, she watches as James stride to the cream-colored door with simple carvings. After a knock, a man opens it and they exchange a few words. When he peers over James's shoulder, she offers a tentative smile and lifts her hand in acknowledgement, wondering if perhaps the one who made that comment over the phone the other time was him. They must be discussing about her, she concludes, as James then twists around to look at her, eyebrows slightly cocked, his lips tilting upwards. His friend produces a grin that makes the color rise in her cheeks.

James calls her name from the doorway and beckons her to join him. She hesitates at first. Then deciding that there's no harm in doing so, she gets out of the car, telling Julian that she'll only be gone a minute and that he shouldn't touch the gears in front. He tried that once about a week or two ago and nearly set the car rolling backwards. After that, she didn't quite feel safe leaving him alone in the vehicle anymore. But this meeting shouldn't take long, she thinks.

"Hi," the Chinese man holds out his hand.

James begins with the introductions. "Juliet, this is Miles, my partner in crime, and Miles, this is—"

"Juliet," Miles finishes, looking at her. She tries hard not to squirm under his gaze, which isn't unfriendly. It just feels like he's doing some scrutinizing. "I've heard a lot about you," he continues, the same grin that he had on before now creeping onto his face again.

Now what does that means? She catches the slight warning look that James sends to his friend, as she tries to figure out how to respond to his words. She pushes her hair back with a slender hand. "I haven't heard about you, to be honest," she confesses.

Miles chuckles, James relaxes and some of the initial tension in her dissipates.

"I hear you're a doctor. I told James he's got a good catch this time."

At that, she hears the blond man groan at the comment, but she only nods. "Yeah, I'm a doctor. I help with the pregnant women and the babies. It's a great job."

"So…you're experienced." Miles says, sending James a look that borders on the line of being suggestive.

"_Miles_." The word is drawn out as politely as it can through gritted teeth.

"Is he treating you right? Sometimes he can be a real pain in the ass."

She swallows back laughter, somewhat aware of James grinding his teeth together, fiery sparks probably flying from his eyes. Miles purposely keeps his gaze fixed on her.

"He's fine," she replies with a smile. "He's always a perfect gentleman."

"Really?" Miles's tone of fake disbelief now prompts James to answer for her.

"Sorry to cut short this gettin'-to-know-each-other session, but we got to go, don't we, sweetheart?" He looks at her beseechingly.

She holds in the laugh that still tickles her throat and nods solemnly. "I'll see you around, Miles. Nice meeting you."

"You too." With a glint in his eyes, he says, "If he ever mistreats you, don't hesitate to tell me. I know his weaknesses and will be more than happy to share them."

"He's a funny guy," she says when they're back on the road to the mall. "It must be amazing to have such a great partner."

"I'm afraid it ain't always so," he sighs. He pauses at a crossroad, looking in all the right directions before making a left turn. "He's as smartass as I am."

"And that's not a good thing? He makes for a very entertaining partner."

"Entertaining and at times, deranged."

"Oh really?" She studies his profile in amusement.

He looks at her and for a moment there, she thinks she sees a flash of uncertainty flicker across his face. It puzzles her. Does he believe she feels an attraction to Miles?

She stares out at the scenery whizzing past in a blur. It is almost unthinkable that he doubts himself or what she feels for him, but then…he's human after all, and God knows she's prone to such a way of thinking as well.

"James," she starts hesitantly.

"Hm?"

"You don't think I like Miles, do you?"

There is an odd expression that he has on and when he suddenly breaks into a guffaw, she feels a sense of relief and a touch of embarrassment. Could she have mistaken his look and read more into it than what it really was?

"Ain't no way in hell I'll think that, Doctor Blondie," he replies with a wide grin.

Is that the pinch of disappointment creeping into her? What is up with that? She is being ridiculous.

"You won't fall for Miles," he says confidently, then adds with an adorable smile. "Not while I'm here."

"I'm hungry," Julian announces from the backseat, cutting in.

"Well, whatcha wanna eat, bud?"

"Fries," he answers cheerily. "And chilli sauce."

She meets James's astonished gaze. "The boy eats chilli sauce?" He says, incredulous.

She shrugs. "Beats me. We don't know why either. It's his new favourite food. He doesn't eat fries with chilli sauce. He eats chilli sauce with fries."

Later when they sit at a kid-friendly restaurant, he sees that she is right. Julian will reach for a fry, dip it in the red sauce until it is slathered with it and then take a bite with much satisfaction. She shares with him a plate of fish and chips with a small salad while James orders a burger with a huge serving of fries and bread. Throughout the meal, she doesn't miss the fact that Julian keeps eyeing James's plate with the rapidly diminishing fries. She puts a limit on his intake of fries though and gives a firm no when he asks for more, offering him the fish instead.

"You don't have greens on your plate," she points out while she selects a baby carrot for Julian.

He tosses her an amused glance. "You noticed?"

"Not until he did," she tilts her head towards her nephew discreetly.

"Ah, I see," he comments. Reaching over to her plate, he stabs a cucumber and makes sure Julian sees it going into his mouth. "Greens," he tells the boy. "Start with G. G is for good, so greens equals good."

They wander around the building, from the first level all the way up, stopping at certain intervals when something of interest catches their attention. Like the Border Collie with the silver-green eyes. Julian is first very much apprehensive of it even though it is kept behind a glass wall until James tells him there is nothing to be afraid of. Then when he decides he wants to keep it as a pet, they head to Toys 'R' Us. Kids scatter all over the place, chatting, whining and screaming. Parents strolling around, some nagging, some coaxing and some just plain bored.

"You're going to spoil him," she says, but truthfully, she doesn't really mind. In fact, she likes knowing that James dotes on her nephew.

"You only get to be a kid once," he replies. If he isn't avoiding her eyes, she will never have guessed his words mean something more. "It's important to get a good childhood."

She turns her gaze to a shelf packed with boxes of board games and remote-controlled cars, sensing some unspoken issues behind his statements. He never really talked about his parents, come to think of it. She wonders why. Julian runs up to them then, gripping a weird contraption with brilliant spinning lights of red and blue while hugging a wooden toy train with the other arm.

"Both, sweetheart?"

He nods vigorously.

"No, only one," she says gently but firmly. With her peripheral vision, she notices a woman near her sixties with graying hair watching them. She straightens, turns her head, and looks at her with a welcoming smile tilting her lips.

"He's beautiful," the woman compliments in a steady voice that doesn't quite match her fragile appearance. She is small-built with wrinkles scattered all over her face and as she approaches, Julian angles his head towards her and gives one of his rare, charming smiles.

Juliet is rather taken aback by his sudden show of friendliness, but is distracted by the fleeting thought that his smile reminds her of one James wears whenever he is pleased with something, she realizes. When did that boy learn to smile like that? Or more accurately, when did she start to think that way?

"How long have you two been married?"

She jerks her gaze back to the woman in surprise. She hears James clear his throat in the background.

"Three?" The lady makes a guess. "Or four years now?"

_Way off the mark._ Shifting her feet, she exchanges an awkward look with James.

"We've…never been married," she finally replies. And before the stranger makes the wrong assumption, she adds, "He's my nephew, not my son. My friend," she gestures to him. "He's…with me, but we're not married."

Damn. It's always so easy to tell when she's nervous. And the best thing is there is no valid reason to be nervous at all.

Then James smoothly takes over and he gives all the right answers to the woman with an easy smile, one just like Julian's and equally, if not more, charming. By the time she settles with helping Julian choose one of the toys to purchase, the stranger has left and James is now standing with his feet planted apart, arms folded, and is looking over at her with a half-smile, half-smirk.

"What?"

He lifts his brows. "Nothin'. Just got a little flustered there, didn't we?"

She just knows she's turning pink. She deliberately turns away from him, steering Julian and his chosen toy towards the cashier. "Not really."

But soon he is beside her, a teasing grin spread across his face. "Don't like the idea of us as a family?"

"That's insane."

"It is."

"20.80," the cashier says in a monotone. His eyes are dull, as though he has been working for 12 hours straight, and he is suffering from an outbreak of pimples. High school kid again, she guesses as she reaches for her purse, but James gets there before she does and hands the boy a fifty dollar note.

She faces him, ready to protest but he cuts her off. "Hey, it's okay. Besides, this ain't my first time—"

"That's exactly why," she tells him.

The acne-suffering teen slaps a red paid sticker on their purchase and gives it a slight shove in their direction. "Have a nice day," he says in a robotic tone before tending to the next customer.

"Enthusiastic chap," he quips as they leave the store.

"You would expect someone a little more passionate in a kid's store, don't you think?" She muses out loud, all the time keeping an eye on Julian who is stubbornly carrying out his decision to 'walk by himself' in front. Then she notices the bemused look aimed at her. "What?"

"Oh. Nothin'," he replies in a tone that means otherwise. "I'm just surprised, that's all."

"About?"

"That you would say somethin' less than desirable about someone."

"You actually thought I'm that nice?"

He shrugs. "Never thought you'd say something negative, you know. You're always so…" He runs words through his mind to find one that fits. "Careful about what you say about people."

She inhales deeply. _Wait till you know how hard that is, James._

"You know, every time we go out, I learn something new about you. I think I like gettin' to know you better, Juliet." He quickens his pace just then and scoops Julian up just in front of a Ben & Jerry's outlet. She joins them at the counter, taking a sweeping look at the two rows of different colours and flavours available.

_Chocolate? Peanut Brittle? Mint Chocolate Chunk? S'mores? Vanilla? Milk & Cookies? Strawberry? Cherry Garcia? _

"Ice-cream?"

"I want that one," Julian presses his finger to the cool glass and that will no doubt leave a print afterwards.

_Well, that one it is then._

* * *

Someone once said that with every mountaintop you get to, there'll always be a valley to go down to. Well. She'd like to make a complaint that the time she was allowed at the mountaintop was much too short. Three days after they went out together, she got the news that Rachel's cancer had spread.

It is safe to say that her sister took the news better than she did.

And it is safe to say that her life went downhill from that very moment.


	5. Chapter 5

Short and sadly, kinda crappy, chapter, IMO. May go a bit haywire. Let me know if you don't like how things are turning out. :)

eyeon: I know I promised no angst but...forgive me. :P Older woman is perfect stranger. They weren't supposed to go to the mall, but Julian came into the picture, so they had to adjust their plans. James at the hospital at the beginning of the chapter or story?

tntlostfan: Thanks! Glad you like them!

There's no funny stuff in this chapter, but if you prefer funny scenes, please also let me know. Many thanks!

* * *

**Chapter 5**

He strides past the front desk, muscles tensed, jaw clenched. Those who know him well enough make wide berths around him just to avoid crossing his path. Oh yes, he is on the warpath. He swings open the door with a little too much force, nearly slamming into a bewildered officer on his way in.

"I hope you're not planning on driving. You'd be arrested for speeding before you even leave this place."

_Miles._

He growls a couple of choice words under his breath as he stalks off to his car. Miles follows him doggedly, still futilely trying to convince him that all isn't as bad as it seems.

"Haven't you been waiting for a case like this?"

"Yeah," he exploded. "But don't you think it's the wrong time to send me far away?"

"It's work, James. What do you expect?"

"I asked for time off." He receives an eye roll in return. Just as he expected.

"You just did a couple of weeks ago, remember? How is it that you believed you would be granted time off?"

"Dammit." He stops short then, planting hands on his hips. "I explained why I can't leave. I asked to be assigned to another case and he said no."

"You're asking for a lot of things, Ford." Miles wipes his face with a hand, taking a deep breath. The people walk past, oblivious to whatever's happening just before the station. "Look. You'll only be gone at most one week. It's not like you'll be going undercover again. Not this time. You're getting under their skin, Ford. If you create more…trouble, you could get transferred."

Or even fired.

The unspoken words hang in the air between them.

He let his hands drop limply to his sides and turns away. "Anything can happen in one week, Miles. Start a war, a school shootout, a crazed murderer—"

"Let's not get dramatic here."

"She can die in one month, one week or a day, Miles. Anything can happen and if that does happen, I gotta be there for her."

"For God's sake, Ford, get a grip. She's a grown-up. She knows how to care for a kid. Surely she knows how to care for herself."

"You ain't gonna understand."

"No, _you_ ain't understanding!" Miles flares up, raising his voice, which is so unusual that James lifts his head to stare at him. "What has gotten into you? You never let anything affect your job before, much less your relationships with women. You've known Juliet for like, what? How long?"

_Three months._

"I've barely met her. Okay, so she seems nice enough, but buddy, when did that relationship take the place of work in your life? You wanted a good case to work on and now it's here, you want to give it up. This is ridiculous!"

He doesn't understand it either. He doesn't remember when Juliet merged with his life, becoming his life. Maybe it is from the time he bumped into her. Maybe it is when he first went out with her. But it doesn't matter when or how or why. It just is.

How does one explain this…this phenomenal feeling? Every time he looks into her eyes, it's as though he has known her for years, the way her hand slips into his so easily when they're walking together, how their first kiss felt so natural he wonders if she's made perfectly for him. Or when he's with her, sometimes he gets a sense of déjà vu, like the time they were at the beach just last week, watching the big fiery ball descending the horizon. But he doesn't say any of that. "That's not the point," he mutters.

"Then _what_ is?"

Would someone understand that to Juliet, her sister is an essential part of her life and when…no, he corrects himself, _if_ she's gone, her world will come crashing down? Then who will be there for her when her sister's not around anymore? How incredibly difficult will it be for her to deal with her grief and Julian's?

"You ain't gonna understand," he repeats quietly.

Miles throws up his hands. "I don't know why I even ask."

In the silence that follows, he keeps his eyes fixed on the massive building across the street, staring hard at the second floor as though it is of interest to him. To his left, he hears a car turn in, its wheels giving a painful screech on the road. "She's been hospitalized."

Miles blinks. "Who?"

"Rachel." He digs his thumb into one pocket, hooking his hand. "Her sister. She's got cancer. It was fine and then…then she just went downhill."

"Downhill," Miles echoes.

"Yeah." He lets out his breath, locking eyes with his partner. "And I have to be there."

"You can be there after the trip. It's a short trip. Look. If all goes well, we can have it done within the month."

No amount of pleading will change his mind. He runs his tongue along the sharp edge of his teeth, staring at the ground as Miles strives to convince him to see things from his point of view.

"Why don't you go and have a good talk with her. Discuss this with her and let me know what she says. If I know Juliet well enough," he stresses. "Then I believe she will tell you it's fine for you to go."

His forehead creases. That's exactly the problem. She may tell him all is fine, but he knows as sure as hell it is not.

* * *

He's screaming and kicking at the table, kicking at anything he can reach, lashing out at everything. All because she refuses to buy him a soft drink until he has finished his food. He doesn't stop and the coffee cup near the edge of the table wobbles with one forceful kick, then with another, it topples onto her lap. With a strange detachment, she takes in the rapidly-spreading stain. It is hot enough to sting her skin but she doesn't even flinch. When she flicks her gaze back to Julian, his eyes are wide with fear, expecting to be yelled at.

She doesn't. She looks back at her lap. Somewhere at the back of her mind it registers the fact that it will be tough to get the coffee out from the material of her jeans. It needs to be soaked in clean water.

Then the sound of wails seeps into her consciousness.

Julian is crying for his mother. He must not understand why Juliet's acting out of sorts all of a sudden. Even she does not understand. She needs to soothe him, comfort him, take him in her arms…do something. But her arms are stiff by her sides.

"Juliet?"

A voice penetrates the fog that surrounds her. Suddenly James is there, a sobbing and vulnerable Julian sheltered him in his arms. He hunkers by her chair, his hand on her knee. The world lightens just a tad.

He takes in her ruined jeans. Worry makes its appearance in the form of a line on his forehead. "What happened?"

_What happened? Rachel got worse. Julian's throwing a tantrum and he won't stop crying. The cancer spread faster than they thought it would. The laces came undone. The…_

"The coffee spilt."

Why did it come out sounding like she's surprised? She's not.

He squeezes her knee. "Not gonna clean it up?"

"I…" Failing to form a sentence, she tries to remember why, frowning. "I was about to."

He thinks she isn't handling this well. She can read it just by looking at him.

"Why not you go home and rest?"

She stares at him, feels the beginning of tears pricking her eyes. Her throat works hard, her lips part. "I…I'm staying."

He drops his gaze for a second, then looks back up, the expression on his face softening. "Okay. I'll take Julian home first. If you want me to come back, I can call someone to…"

"No. I'm fine." She bites her lower lip to stop it from trembling. "Thanks." The air in the cafeteria gets stuffy all of a sudden. She is going to break down if she doesn't get out of there. "Excuse me," she whispers almost inaudibly as she tries to push past him.

"Hey." He stops her, draws closer to her. She sees the concern apparent in his eyes. He strokes her face gently, gazing at her. "I love you. Okay?"

She doesn't have the voice to answer and nods before fleeing the cafeteria. The tears that she managed to hold back just minutes ago come pouring down her face. She bends her head, letting her hair cover her face and granting her some privacy as she presses a hand to her mouth to muffle the sobs threatening to tear from her throat. Later, in the privacy of her car, she hunches over the wheel, her sobs filling the air.

She remembers the moment she realized she could not wake her sister up, when terror and fear gripped her so hard she couldn't breathe and it finally dawned upon her that Rachel was dying. She didn't know how she managed to call for an ambulance, nor somehow kept Julian from seeing his unconscious mother being carried out from the house by the medics.

Rachel is the one holding the pieces of her life together from the time when their parents got divorced. What will life be without her sister as a constant support by her side? When someone treats her bad, who will tell her to go 'stick it up their ass'? Or laugh with her, or cry with her?

Her phone rings and she chokes back another cry as she fumbles to pick it up.

"Hello." Her voice is shaky and whispery. She swallows hard, trying again. "Hello."

Better.

"Hi," a hesitant male voice comes through, one she doesn't recognize. "It's Jack."

She does now. No words come to mind, so she stays quiet, not knowing how to respond.

"Uh," he stutters a bit, stumbling at the silence. "I saw you earlier at the hospital. I heard about…Rachel."

She hears him breathe. She looks out at an elderly couple from within the car. The woman is seated in a wheelchair.

"I want to say I'm sorry about it…and I hope you're holding up okay."

"I'm fine," she mumbles.

"Okay," he pauses awkwardly. "Uh…if you need anything, just give me a call."

She bites her inner cheek. Their relationship had been short-lived. She doesn't even know if it could be considered a romantic relationship. All they had in the past was attraction and a couple of dates.

_Though things didn't quite work out between us, you can still call. Though things have been a little uncomfortable, you can still call. Though sometimes we treat each other like strangers, you can still call._

She continues staring out the window despite the fact that the couple has left. "Sure," she replies softly, maybe even a little coolly.

"Alright." Another pause. "Take care."

He doesn't put down the phone and she thinks he wants to say more, but after a couple of seconds, she hears some background noise and then the dial tone. She lets the phone slide from her grasp onto the seat. Then, she leans forward, resting her head on the steering wheel, no more tears left to cry.

A gentle knock on the window startles her. James peers in, Julian on his hip. She takes a second to compose herself then lets herself out. "Hey."

His arm circles her, his hand brushes her back lightly, making her want to fall into his embrace before she crumples into nothingness. "I was worried," he says as if he feels the need to explain why he came out to check on her.

She smiles faintly, not resenting his presence at all. In fact, she more than welcomes it.

He rubs her back in comforting strokes. She is aware of him carefully studying her. "Are you sure you don't want me to stay with you? I can get someone to stay over with Julian."

She shakes her head.

"You gonna all right?"

_No, I'm not going to be all right. I need you here._ She nods almost imperceptibly.

His eyes searches her for an honest answer, but she refuses to meet his gaze. She hears a quiet sigh. Then, he draws her close and presses a soft kiss on her head. "I'll be back soon as I can."

She stuffs her hands into the pockets of her jacket, smiles in apology at Julian, who buries his face in James's neck, before trudging back to the building. James will not drive away until he sees her enter the hospital, out of his sight. She heads towards the nearest bathroom. Pulling out some paper towels, she goes to the white sink by the wall. The automatic sensor tap releases water, wetting the towels, and she rubs them against her jeans.

Nothing happens.

Damn the stubborn stain. She rubs harder. No visible effect. She dumps the coffee-coloured towels into the bin in disgust. Then, collecting water in her cupped hands, she splashes the cool liquid onto her burning face. Over and over. Until all traces of tears have been washed away.

When she lifts her head to face her reflection, her normally bright eyes are dull, red-rimmed. There is a tightness in her face and chest. Pitiful. She turns away and leans heavily against the white sink.

She may have washed away the tears on her face, but not the tears from her heart. She never actually stopped crying.

Not really.

* * *

He shuts the door of the house, turns around and says a little too brightly, "Okay, bud. Looks like it's just you and me." He makes an attempt at a big smile at the small blond boy, who has been unsettlingly quiet throughout the whole journey. "Well…" He draws in a deep breath. "Whatcha wanna do?"


	6. Chapter 6

Long overdue. My sincerest apologies!

eyeon: Angst Warning!

* * *

**Chapter 6**

"So…what's for dinner?"

Round eyes like blue marbles devoid of an answer stare at him.

He wonders how fathers do it. How they communicate with their kids. Not that he is planning to be Julian's surrougate father. He's just trying to make it through the night and not give both of them a hard time. At least he isn't figeting in his awkward position. "Do you want a sandwich?"

Do kids eat sandwiches for dinner? He does, but then again, he hasn't had a proper dinner for so many days that he has forgotten what consists of a right meal, much less what to give a kid. Juliet always manages to add vegetables to Julian's diet, he recalls. What's nutritious around here?

"Do you want rice?"

Doesn't matter that he has not a clue on how to cook rice.

"Salad?"

He doesn't even eat that horrible stuff. How does he expect a toddler to?

"Uh, pasta?"

Everyone loves pasta, right?

Julian juts out his jaw. "No."

Not everyone then. Maybe he's doing this wrong. He scratches his head, then, wonders if he should just cease asking questions and just give him something to eat.

No choice to choose, no opportunity for rejection. He runs the thought through his brain for that minute and decides that he will do just that.

It is a excellent idea.

* * *

His phone vibrates against his thigh through the fabric of his jeans.

"Hi."

It's her.

"Hey." He hears her soft breaths as he waits for her to speak. She probably has one arm on her stomach right now.

"I'm sorry about what happened earlier," she begins quietly. "I think I was…overwhelmed. I should've taken Julian home myself instead of having you do the job. You must be having a hard time with him right now."

"It's fine," he answers. "We managed to work things out."

"Hm."

Even though the sentences give nothing away, he picks out a note of listlessness in her voice, one that is hard to miss, one that worries him. Maybe he should make a trip down to the hospital once Julian falls asleep. Just to make sure everything all right. He presses the phone closer to his ear. "You doin' okay over there?"

"Yeah. I just came out to take a break. You know, fresh air and everything." She trails off. Her voice wavers a bit at the end. She clears her throat. "How's Julian? Is he still mad at me?"

The corners of his lips pull up as he glances in the direction of the kitchen. The slight breeze carries with it a faint humming sound of a two-year-old. "He ain't angry, Juliet. I bet he's forgotten all about it."

"That's good to know."

"He liked his bath time."

She chuckles softly. "Did he scare you? He's a terror in the bathroom."

She speaks the truth. He wanted bubbles, wanted his rubber ducky, wanted his toy fish and he sure did splash around a lot. The problem is not getting the boy to bathe. It's getting him to get out of the bath. This reminds him to clean up the mess in the bathroom before anyone decides to go in there and slip on the wet floor.

"Ah, it was fun."

"Is he in bed yet?"

He shakes his head, searching the walls for a clock and spotting one by the door. "Not yet. When's his bedtime?"

"He's usually ready to fall into bed by 10."

Right. He always thought little kids have to be in bed earlier than that. Then again, he remembers some late nights when he brought Juliet home and noticed the boy still up with his toys and showing no signs of stopping to answer sandman's call. No wonder Rachel has constant complaints of him running her ragged.

Guess you can't fit a child in a fixed schedule. But considering he's been a bachelor the whole of his life, he's doing pretty well spending a night alone with a kid.

"He likes toast."

Toast? His forehead crinkles in a frown. "Toast?"

"Yeah, if you're having trouble getting him to eat, usually he'll be fine with toast. He likes it better than the normal sandwiches."

"Ah," a smile tilts his lips. "I'll keep that in mind."

The humming from the kitchen grows louder and he is distracted momentarily. Then she whispers, "Thank you." That instant, his heart gives a tug. He knows he wants to be there with her, knows she needs the support even if she doesn't wish to admit it.

"I'll drop by after he's asleep, if you want."

_Of course she wants._

"No, it's okay."

_Maybe not._

"Just make sure Julian's all right for the night. Sometimes he wakes up in the middle of the night and I won't want him to be alone if he does." She pauses. "You'll be okay with that?"

He forces a chuckle. "It's fine with me." He brushes his thumb against the rough fabric of his jeans. "I just wanna make sure you're all right."

She gives a short, soft laugh. "I'll be fine, James. Thanks."

"Call me if you need anything."

_If you need me._

"I will."

"Night."

"Goodnight."

He leaves his phone on the table outside and heads back into the kitchen. "Hey, buddy. Done eating?"

Julian looks up from the table, a bitten biscuit clutched in his hand. Crumbs dot the area surrounding his mouth. A small bowl of sweetened condensed milk sits thankfully unspilled in front of him.

A grin spreads across his face as he leans on the table, facing the boy. He gestures towards the bowl. "You like it, Bud?"

Julian nods.

His mother used to make snacks like these for him. Plain biscuits dipped in condensed milk. Until now, he still loves eating his biscuits that way. Judging from the way Julian is devouring the small stack of round biscuits, apparently, he enjoys that particular snack too.

Now. How does he go about brushing the boy's teeth? Or does the toddler know how to handle that task himself?

* * *

She stands under a streetlamp, blinking as if woken up from a deep sleep. A cool breeze gently lifts golden strands off her face. The bright orange glow from the bulb above reflects off the silky sheen of the blond hair that tumbles past her shoulders. She raises blue eyes to the night sky, taking in the sparse droplets raining down on her. Tiny uncountable stars pepper the blackness overhead, but the moon is nowhere to be seen. Hidden by the clouds, she supposes.

She turns her gaze to her left, then, to the right, realizing that the landscape is unrecognizable. She has no clue where she is or how she ended up at that very place. Panic starts to tie her stomach into knots.

"Juliet?"

She twists her head in the direction of the voice and spots a blonde man standing motionless in the dark. A rush of relief fills her. "James?"

He is dressed in formal wear, but at that time, she does not notice anything out of the ordinary, does not question his presence in this strange land. A slight smile curves his lips. He holds his arms out to her. She falls into his embrace, taking comfort in his arms and the musky scent of his cologne.

"What…what are we doing here?" She finally asks in an uncertain voice. "I don't," her voice hitches. "I don't remember coming here."

When she doesn't receive a reply, she pulls back and notices his distant gaze into the darkness.

"James?" She squeezes his arm gently.

"We gotta go somewhere," he tells her urgently and starts off at a quick pace, her hand firmly in his. His shoes make rhythmic muted sounds on the pavement, yet, the night is so silent, the air suddenly so still, that any noise that is made seems too loud in this place.

"Where are we going?"

He comes to a stop just before a grassy slope. About half a mile away from the foot of the hill, she sees a train. It doesn't have many cars, just maybe three or four. It is a sleek shiny black with an old-fashioned funnel at the front together with blinding lights that will reveal the tracks that stretch for miles and miles. Very pretty.

A thought enters her mind.

This is not right, she thinks. Why would there be a train in the middle of nowhere? She doesn't recall any place that would have a train station on in the open like this. She has not been here before. Panic starts to stir within her again.

"James," she says. "Where are we? Why are we here?"

She looks at his handsome profile in the dim light but he does not meet her eyes. He merely stares at the scene unfolding before him. With a perplexed frown, she turns to take a second look to see what it is that is holding his attention.

There are people now, she realizes. Not many. Maybe fewer than 20, but still, she sees them, boarding the train, one by one. Strangely enough, they carry no luggage, no handbags. Nothing.

The last passenger, a woman, in particular catches her eye. Her gait is very familiar, as is her build and features. She squints for a clearer look and the moment she recognizes the woman, an audible gasp escapes her.

"Rachel," she breathes. Without even a glance at James, she grasps his arm and whispers, "It's Rachel. I…I need to go to her." She takes a step towards her sister when she realizes his hand is restraining her. She meets his gaze with a confused expression.

"You gotta let her go, Juliet," he says solemnly, in a measured tone. It sets of a spark of fear within her.

And then it comes to her.

If her sister gets on that train, she will not be coming back.

"No," she gives a sudden scream. "No, I can't…James, we've got to go and get her. Please…please, James." She tries pulling away from him to where Rachel is already seated. Her sister has a calm smile on her face. It unnerves her. She's trying to tell her something. What is it?

The fear inside her burns like fire. It hurts. "I have to get her. Please, James. Please." Her eyes swim with tears, blurring her vision, blurring her sweet sister's image.

A gust of wind sets leaves rustling furiously and whips the hair around her face. She sucks in much-needed oxygen and the air stings her throat. An icy hand curls cold fingers around her heart and she gasps again, feeling her chest tighten with pain.

Then to her horror, she sees the train moving off with a jerk. "No!" The sob in her throat grows into a wail of anguish. She attempts to twist herself out of James's grasp with renewed fury but he holds her tight, his grip on her unyielding.

He will not let her go. He will not let her go to her sister.

"Rachel!" She yells, heartbroken, at the rapidly vanishing train in the distance. As it plunges into the darkness, her chest explodes with pain. She collapses, tears streaming down her face in hot rivulets.

There is a flash and then it is raining. The world is fading away in the midst of flashes. The colors melt into the blackness, leaving her with nothing.

Nothing…

She blinks, and then, finds herself by her sister's bedside. She feels something wet on her cheeks and lifts a hand to touch her face in query.

Tears.

She has been crying again.

* * *

Miles huffs and pants beside him, struggling to keep up with the pace that he has set. Both are decked out in similar white shirts and small towels around their necks to soak in the perspiration. He knows the trail like the back of his hand. That's how many times his feet have pounded on the road of rocks and soil.

When the narrow path widens to a smoother surface, signaling the end of the track, he stumbles to a stop and bends over, resting his hands on his knees. Then he straightens, tilting his head up, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. At his side, Miles drops to the ground, sucking in deep noisy breaths of air into his lungs.

He lets out a laugh. "Too much, Miles?" He jerks his leg away as Miles snaps his towel at him.

"So," After a minute or so, Miles finally manages to squeeze out a couple of words. "Where were you all night? Yesterday?"

"Busy," he replies flippantly. "C'mon. I'm dyin' for a drink." The parking lot is just half a mile away. If they walk fast, they'll get there within ten minutes.

"To even answer your phone?" Miles probes, undeterred as he lengthens his steps to match James's.

"It was on silent. I was helping Juliet and left it in the livin' room and forgot about it."

"Ah," Miles raised his brows. "Helping her, eh? In what sense?"

James throws him a disgusted look. "She was at the hospital. I was helpin' with Julian."

"You were babysitting?" Miles remarks in exaggerated disbelief. "Did you tuck the little dude in bed too?"

He feels a hot flush down his neck. "I wasn't babysitting, idiot."

"Name-calling never gets one anywhere, Officer Ford."

"Shut up."

"And manners get you far."

"My fist is itchin' to get a feel of your face, Miles."

The Asian man backed off, a hint of a smirk on his lips. James narrowed his eyes at him. He lifted his arms, palms open. "No more."

"That better be the truth." He grunts and breaks into a run, leaving Miles in the dust.

"Hey!" He yells. "So we on for tonight?"

James lifts his hand in reply before disappearing around the bend.

"I'll take that as a yes," Miles mutters to himself and resumes his leisurely stroll.


	7. Chapter 7

Wasn't the Suliet reunion just squee-worthy? *wub*

Vending machines = Love (though technically they met at a candy vending machine, and not the coffee one)

I've been occupied lately so forgive whatever mistakes that I've made in this chapter. Enjoy! :D

* * *

**Chapter 7**

"Damn."

She jabs the black top left button on the keyboard impatiently, yet the screen refuses to clear. She sighs, her shoulders drooping with tiredness. This is the fourth time her computer has hung. It looks like she has to restart it again.

_So much for technology._

As the screen turns flickers and turns black, she leans back in her seat and shuts her eyes, taking a couple of seconds' break before having to face the faulty computer again. She hasn't gotten the time to drop by on Rachel this morning. She has been rushing from one ward to another since she arrived for work without a single break. What makes it worse is that two of the other doctors are on urgent leave. All their cases have been distributed to the rest of the remaining doctors and she now has three more cases on her list to work on.

A knock on the door shakes her from her worry. She looks up and smiles at her mentor, Sandra, a woman in her late forties with brown hair and a tinge of grey at the crown of her head. She is slightly plump with a friendly smile that never fails to put her patients at ease.

"Everything okay?" The woman asks with eyebrows lifted.

"You can read minds, Sandy?"

"No," she grins as she approaches the desk. "I can read people."

"Good for you. Yes, there's something wrong. My computer is going bonkers. It refuses to let me do my work."

"My, my. A little upset, aren't we?"

She shakes her head. "Sorry. I've just got a lot on my mind right now. And with three new cases, it's getting to be a bit of an overload."

"You haven't seen the worst yet."

"I'm not looking forward to that," she says dryly.

Sandra takes a seat on one of the two plastic chairs and crosses her legs. "How's the Anderson woman?"

At the mention of a difficult patient, she drops her head in her hands. "Don't remind me. She still refuses to quit her smoking habit. I don't know if she even cares for the foetus. It's not like I'm requesting her to stop forever. It's only a few months. Think of the life inside her. How badly it will affect him, but...I don't think she even cares!" The more she talks, the more agitated she's getting, and she comes to a stop, aware of Sandra's observing eyes on her.

"You do what you can, Juliet. The choice is left up to the mother," Sandra advises. "You know we cannot do anything about it."

"I know," she replies in resignation. "Doesn't mean I can take that lightly."

Sandra smiles comfortingly.

"Anyway," She decides it's time for a change of subject. "What brings our busiest and most popular baby doctor to my humble office?"

Sandra laughs. "Lady, it's lunchtime. Or haven't you noticed?"

The clock reads 1.02PM.

"I didn't know," she admits.

"Looks like you may take my position as busiest baby doctor here."

She smiles wryly as she stands up, pushing her chair back. "I'm not sure I want that position."

"You don't get to choose, honey. The position chooses you."

"I like my position just the way it is now." She clicks the option for the computer to go to sleep before reaching for her wallet and phone, shoving them into her pocket. Sandra has the door open and is waiting for her. Turning off the lights, she steps into the hallway next to the other doctor. They turn the corner to where the elevator is and continue their conversation as they wait for its arrival.

"There're some complications with the Korean woman that I just took from Lewis. We may need to keep her here for observation just to make sure everything will be fine." She pushes back a lock of hair that has fallen to cover her eye and tucks it behind her ear. "I heard Susan had a stillbirth just last week. How's she taking it?"

"Badly, I'm afraid."

"Understandable."

"It would've been good if you were there."

The button lights up and the door opens to reveal a nearly-packed elevator. They cramp in with the rest, used to the lunch crowd at this time.

"I didn't want to bother you," Sandra continues. "But I know you needed to be with Rachel."

"Maybe I should give her call. Visit her or something." Her troubled frown deepens. "She's only nineteen."

"Maybe. She grew really attached to you during her time here. At least her parents are giving her the support she needs. She's taking it very hard. If you have the time, just drop by for a while. See how she's doing."

When is she available? She mentally goes through her schedule for the week. Today is definitely out of the question. After visiting Rachel, she'll have to pick Julian up from the child care and then it'll be time for dinner. She can go without dinner but not her nephew. It may be the same for tomorrow and the day after that and so on. Unless...

"Well, well," Sandra exclaims quietly as the door opens on the second level. "Look who's here."

James uncrosses his legs and straightens, a lopsided smile on his face. He looks different today. It's the hair, she realizes. He got a haircut. She's never seen it that short before. And his leather jacket is missing too. It was like his second skin.

"Seems like you've already got a lunch date, lady," Sandra remarks with a wink.

"I didn't," she protests once she is over being dumbstruck. "I never thought he was coming."

"Well he's here, so, I'm gonna leave you two alone. See you after lunch."

"You don't have to go. You can join us," she offers.

Sandra's eyes twinkles. "And be a third wheel? No thanks." With a wave of her hand, she leaves, nodding at James as she passes him.

Her smile widens. "Hey. Cowboy."

He hooks his thumb in one pocket, grinning. "Surprised?"

"Mm-hm," she replies. "I like your hair."

"Good." He says, then, he leans in and captures her lips with his. She allows him to pull her a little closer, letting his kiss erase all the burdensome thoughts from her mind. When they part, he smiles. "We can go elsewhere for lunch. Got the time?"

"Time is what I do not have, James." She links their fingers together and they proceed to make their way through the crowd to the cafeteria.

"You just returned to work and they're pilin' it all on you," he grumbles. "I ain't likin' it."

"We still get to spend time together. Isn't that good?"

He glances over at her fondly. "Don't overwork yourself, Doctor Blondie."

They take Lunch Set B and thankfully, manage to find a table near the doors. Over lunch, they make plans to bring Julian out on a Saturday after a visit to Rachel. James is keen to teach the boy a skill or two in swimming. She isn't sure he's ready for that, but is reassured that her nephew will love it. After all, the boy loves being in the water during his bath time.

She goes on to tell him about her harried day, the troublesome computer and how technology-impaired she is. He laughs and when she asks about his work, updates her on the case he's on. She's concerned about the dangers of the position he's putting himself in, but he laughs it off, saying he's experienced enough to take care of himself. Still, he promises to be cautious and the terse look on her face relaxes.

"If everythin' goes as planned, we'll catch the bad guys and the world will be right again," he says in jest.

"Just as long as you don't do anything stupid," she tells him carefully.

"I won't," he replies, his voice softening. "Can't afford to lose you." He touches her face with his hand, caressing her skin gently.

She grasps his hand and gives a small smile.

"We oughta go for a vacation. One of these days. Me, you...Julian and Rachel." Her heart warms. "We'll travel somewhere far and have fun and we won't have to worry about work or crazy people causing trouble and messing up our lives or selling drugs—"

She stops him. "You're thinking about the case again."

"Hm. Yeah."

She chuckles and pushes the muffin on her plate towards him. "Chocolate makes people happier," she states. "Eat it."

"I ain't upset."

"No, you're worried. You're thinking about work."

Slowly, deliberately, he pushes the plate back. "I bought this for you."

She knows better than to turn this into an argument and picks up her plastic fork, pressing the tines into the baked goodie. Feeling his eyes on her, watching her, she looks up, noting the amused expression he wears. Her eyebrows lifted. "What?"

"Muffins ain't meant to be eaten with forks, sweetheart." He remarks, but when her mouth forms a silent oh, he adds, "But you can eat any way you want. I think it's cute."

_Nice save, boyfriend._

_

* * *

_

"I have good news!"

"Really?" He mumbles, crunching into a slightly bruised apple. His stomach rumbles. Hospital food isn't very filling at all.

"Pay attention, okay?" Miles rolls his chair over and plops down excitedly. "We got a tip from one of our undercover agents about where Damian will be tomorrow. It's in one of the clubs on Hilton Street. He's swinging by to make one of the very important deals."

"Oh those sweet drugs." Five minutes till his shift is over and he can go grab some dinner.

"We'll just get there early and blend right in—"

He dumps the apple core into the bin. "Oughta burst right in with guns blazin'. Scare the shit outta everyone."

"Your head's screwed on all wrong." Miles leans forward. "Derrick is very certain his info is correct. If we get there with some of the other cops, keep our eyes peeled, take the usual safety precautions, we should be able to make it. Our plan is infallible," he finishes with a gleeful smirk.

"Don't count your chickens before the eggs hatch, Miles. Ever heard of that?"

His advice is ignored.

"Remember we keep the next couple of nights free, just in case he doesn't show up tomorrow. No other appointments _or_ babysitting." He glares pointedly at James, who remains immune to his stare.

"You said Derrick is _certain_," he emphasizes. "It's tomorrow."

"Just in case, I said. And if the deal isn't held tomorrow, you know we need to stalk him day and night."

He grimaces, remembering the last time he had a stakeout. He has gone through three days without sleep. He crashed into bed at 3am the day they closed the case and woke up at 6pm the next day. Plus he nearly got shot in the gut on the third day due to his carelessness which, he still believes, was caused by a lack of sleep. But that was part of why he chose this job. It was the excitement, the adrenaline the job provides. He used to live for it.

He smiles faintly. That's the past.

"Hey. You listening?"

"Yeah," he replies. "Casual wear, blend in, guns, everything, tomorrow. It'll be fine, Miles."

"It better be," Miles mutters. "Mess this up and we get assigned Cases For Idiots again."

"Ain't gonna be a problem, my man," he says as he rises from his seat, slinging his brown bag over his shoulder. "See you tomorrow, Officer. Sleep well. We have a long day tomorrow."

* * *

Her cell phone vibrates in her pocket. She pauses in the corridor and pulls it out.

The name that crawls across the screen turns her into a statue. She swallows, pushing down the rising panic.

_Don't be stupid, Juliet. It's just a message._

_Just a message._

It does nothing to calm her. She inhales deeply and proceeds to read the sms with a sense of trepidation.

"I'm in town. Meet me for a drink. We can catch up."

She looks away, then back again. The words on the screen stay the same. They blur for a bit but when they come back into focus, they never change. There they are. In short sentences, hard, unavoidable, mocking.

He wants her to meet him.

A sudden wave of hatred sweeps over her at the memories that come crashing through the dam. She clenches her teeth, glaring at the screen with the fading light, as though it is responsible for the trouble that is caused.

Then the initial fury melts away to worry, then, to uncertainty. Her eyes dart from the screen to the floor to the people passing her, wandering, searching for an answer.

Should she meet him? She bits her lip. Rachel will be infuriated if she knows her sister is entertaining such a thought. It will bring nothing but more hurt, more pain, more trouble. She knows that for a fact.

And yet...

Lowering her head, she slips the phone back into her pocket and walks out of the room.

Why does she let him do this to her?

* * *

He watches the light reflect off the smooth surface of the ring, making the diamond glisten. "Whatcha think, Bud? Think she'll say yes to me?"

"Yes?" Julian glances over disinterestedly.

"I ain't sure when to ask her." He says, more to himself than to the boy, who has already gone back to his drawing. "What if she's not ready? I'd feel like a damned fool then." He drums his fingers on the table, deep in thought.

Miles will think it laughable. The long-time bachelor James Ford thinking of getting hitched. But this is serious business. Juliet isn't like any other woman. He has known that ever since their first encounter at the hospital. That was why he asked her out all those months ago, because he needed to get to know her better. Because he felt there was some sort of connection between them.

He slowly twirls the ring with his fingers, staring intently at it. What he wishes to know right now is if she feels the same way about him. Sure, he knows she enjoys his company. He makes her laugh. She appreciates him presence around the house, around Julian. She likes having him around.

But does she understand that deep, intense love he has for her? The one that tells him every night that he is capable of doing anything for her. Stop speeding rockets, pluck the sparkling stars from the sky, go through flames of fire.

What a loaded question, comes the thought almost immediately, and how ridiculous, but he needs to know before he takes that step of asking her to marry him. He doesn't want to pop the question prematurely and scare her off. Rejection never bothers him much. He usually brushes it off without a second thought. But this one, he most certainly will not be able to take lightly.

He's not afraid of committing. He loves her and he's willing to do anything to prove it. He's willing to wait if she needs time to consider giving herself to him for a lifetime. He wants to hear that she holds the same love that he has for her.

He raps the table once in frustration, causing Julian to jerk in surprise. He doesn't notice as the air hisses out between his teeth. He wonders if all men go through such turmoil before proposing.

"Is that for 'liet?"

A slight smile crosses his face as he glances at the toddler. "Yeah."

Julian climbs off his chair to take a closer look at the ring. He peers at it for a moment, then, comments nonchalantly, "Pretty."

"Yeah," he says again. "I spent a bomb on this."

Julian looks up, mouth slightly open. "Boom?"

It elicits a chuckle from him. "Sort of. Boom in my pocket." He observes the toddler as he touches the metal with a finger in awe. Leaning forward, he lowers his voice to a whisper, as if telling the boy a secret. "I'm gonna give this to Juliet."

"I want."

He laughs. "It's not for you, Bud. Do you know what this means? Givin' this to Juliet?" Explaining probably won't do any good but it feels good to be able to talk to someone, even if it's only a two-year-old boy. "It means...I'm going to marry her."

Julian blinks, nonplussed. He tries again.

"I'm going to marry her, Bud. I'm going to live with her. You'll get to see me every day. I'll be like your—"

_Father._

He swallows the word at the tip of his tongue. "Your best friend."

A shy smile spreads across Julian's face as he replies, "You're my best friend."

He pulls in the boy for a hug and sets him on his lap. "So you okay with that? Me marryin' Juliet?"

The toddler nods.

_Well that's good to know._

"What's this?" He picks up the piece of paper with coloured scrawling all over it. He tilts his head to the left, scrutinizing the drawing. Some scribbles here and there. Blue, red, brown, green.

"Plane," Julian points at the unidentified object in the air that is now identified. His finger travels to the blue scribbles at the bottom. "Water. And this is is...land. This is a dog...and he lives under water."

James listens to Julian rambling and takes a minute or two to examine the picture but soon realizes he can only differentiate the objects by the colours. Otherwise, it appears as a meaningless drawing to him. But he puts on an encouraging smile and says, "Good job, Bud!"

His cell phone on the table vibrates. He flips it open and scans through the urgent message. Within the next couple of minutes, he has accomplished coming up with a new plan, making two quick calls and settling a snack for Julian. He can't get Juliet but he guesses she is busy at work still.

"Listen, Bud, I have to go for a bit. I need to leave you with Sarah."

"Sarah?" Julian inquires with all the adorability of a child. "Babysitter?"

He nods. "But I'll be back as soon as I can. So will Juliet." The doorbell rings and he looks up. That has to be Sarah. He ruffles Julian's hair. "Sleep early, okay?"

Satisfied that all will be well, he leaves the boy with a quick kiss and the teenager with a couple of instructions. Then he hops into his car, first checking the glove compartment just to make sure his gun is there before he turns the key to start the engine. He pulls out of the garage and makes it to the club in record time, barely keeping within the speed limit.

"Where the hell were you?" Miles demands the instant he steps out of his car onto the pavement. "You took nearly an hour to get here."

"Bull. I took less than that. You oughta be thankful I didn't get into an accident on the way here." He hurriedly straps in his gun and pulls his shirt over to conceal it. "Reliable info, huh. You know I hate last-minute changes."

"Get used to it."

"I am. I just don't like it."

The club is overrun with people, from dancers to under aged students to bored patrons. Deafening music blasts from the speakers. Smoke drifts from one place to the other, filling the entire club. He coughs in disgust, surveying the place.

"Piece of cake, huh. It's like finding a needle in a haystack."

"Shut up. We'll do this just fine. Just keep your eyes wide open."

He turns his head and a flash of blond catches his eye.

_What the—_

He cocks his head, looking hard at the very place he saw the familiar blond hair even after the woman was gone and there was nothing left to look at. Then he felt someone punch him on his shoulder. He scowls at his partner. "What?"

"What the hell is wrong with you, Ford? You're stoning."

"I'm not," he mutters, turning back.

It's ridiculous, he tells himself. Juliet doesn't patronize places like this. After all, there're tons of people out there with blond hair. Shaking his head, he puts the incident out of his mind and tries to focuses on his current assignment.


	8. Chapter 8

Thanks for all the reviews and for reading! I've got a short update (I think no one expected this turn of events in the fic) that may have to last a while because I promised someone I'll try to work on Whenever You Remember, which has been resting for too long. ;) The lyrics here is from the song 'From Where You Are' by Lifehouse.

Also, I started a new Juliet fic about her thoughts if anyone's interested.

* * *

**Chapter 8**

The house is quiet, as it usually is early in the morning. The sun is barely beginning its ascent and the faint light rays filter in through the windows. With each minute the sky gets lighter, now turning shades of soft pink and purple. A cool draft travels from the outdoors through the open window, bringing with it the scent of flowers blooming in the garden.

She sits alone in the chair by the table, her feet on cool tiles, unseeing, uncaring, as her mind wanders a thousand miles away.

* * *

_I miss the years that were erased_

_I miss the way the sunshine would light up your face_

_I miss all the little things_

_I never thought that they'd mean everything to me_

_Yeah, I miss you, and I wish you were here._

* * *

"_What did you do?"_

_He is calm and not at all ruffled at her reaction. He holds a glass of wine in his hand. She is well unaware that unlike him, she has lost all control, and it only serves to anger her all the more. The fact that despite choosing to think she has broken all connections with him, he still has the ability to get to her, to get her to do what he wants._

"_You're a bastard," she says tightly through gritted teeth. Her hands tremble and she clenches them into fists. _

_He snorts. "And you're an idiot." He turns his eyes towards her and she flinches at his stare._

_She hates herself for that._

_A smile, mocking and cutting her to the heart, spreads across his face. He takes a long, leisurely sip from the glass and saunters to her. She stiffens with every little step that brings him closer to her._

_She wants to run. She needs to run. _

_Oh she was stupid to believe he could have helped her, that he would settle for buying her a drink and choosing not to bother her anymore._

"_Leave me alone." Her voice shakes. She presses her lips together into a thin line to stop more words from spilling out. They will only make a fool out of her._

_Make a bigger fool out of her._

_He retracts the finger that he has been running down her bare arm and laughs derisively. "The door's just there, Juliet. You can go anytime you want. But wait. Oh, you don't have your clothes on."_

_His continuous laughter echoes in her ears. Burning shame covers her face. She'll never be able to erase that shame. Hot tears sting her eyes, ever ready to fall any second now._

_James. What will he think of her?_

"_You know," he gulps from his cup and sighs in satisfaction. "I thought you were smart enough to reject a drink that I offered. After all, I am a despicable man...your hated ex-husband. Why would you want to sit with me? Much less let me buy you a drink? But you couldn't resist, could you? You actually believed I could help Rachel." His tone is stinging, meant to hurt, to pierce into the deepest part of her._

_She doesn't want to cry, but the tears come anyway, and she can't stop them. _

_He pauses, observing the tears running down her face. "Ah, poor Jules. You never thought there'd be a little something in your drink, did you?"_

_In uncertainty, she opens her mouth but is unable to reply a word. She tightens the grip on the white sheet, trying to hide her nakedness, alone in the searing shame he heaps on her, suffocating in it._

_Suffocating with the thought of the consequences she will have to face._

_Suffocating with the thought that no matter how hard, she will try, things will never be the same again._

* * *

_She is shoving clothes into the maroon suitcase lying open on her bed. She doesn't really know what she's packing. Everything. She's taking everything with her. She only knows she needs to go. She needs to leave. She can't stay. _

_She cannot stay and continue a relationship that will not move further because of her. She can't hold him back for a mistake that she alone is responsible for._

_He grabs her hand. She pulls away. "Where're you going?" He asks again._

"_Away," she says shortly and resumes throwing the clothes into the case. He follows her every step. It bugs her that he isn't leaving her alone. All he does is to make things harder. Nothing he will do can change her mind. Julian huddles in the corner of the room with wide eyes. She really needs to get him to the other room with his toys._

"_Damn it, Juliet. Talk to me," he says. "Is this because of Rachel's death?"_

_She wishes he would quit probing. She wishes he'd stop sounding so damn concerned, so terribly heartbroken because it is making her reconsider._

_But she cannot reconsider. For his sake, she cannot. He will not break her down. She tugs at the zip with enough force to break it. Steeling herself, she straightens and stares into the eyes that know her so well. How many times has she seen herself reflected in them?_

"_It's over."_

_She doesn't want to look. But she must. She must._

"_This," she proceeds to unclasp the silver chain around her neck and holds it up. His ring dangles at the end of it, glimmering in the light. She tries not to think of the many days she has worn it close to her heart. "I can't take it." She hesitates, then, reaches for his arm, dropping the treasured possession into his open hand. "Give it to someone who deserves it."_

_She drags the suitcase down from the bed and holds her hand out to Julian. He scurries over to her and with a bewildered glance at James, takes her hand. They leave the house in a hurry. The flight requires them to check in soon._

_He does not come after her._

_

* * *

_

_I feel the beating of your heart_

_I see the shadows of your face_

_Just know that wherever you are_

_Yeah, I miss you_

_And I wish you were here_

_

* * *

_

"James?"

He startles at the sound of his colleague's voice. He blinks and realizes he has been staring at the ring again. Partially annoyed with himself, he tucks the ring back into his shirt where it hangs from the chain he wears around his neck.

"Hey. You okay?" Miles asks, worry creasing his forehead.

How many times has he heard his partner ask him this question for the past months?

He pushes away the thoughts starting to crowd his head. "Never been better." He pulls off the glasses he's wearing and sets them on the table. "How's the wedding preparation comin' along?"

"It's fine." Miles says awkwardly. There is no need to guess what the other party is thinking. He clears his throat. "You know, it's all right if you don't want to be the best man. I totally understand. It's not the right time."

"Hold up, partner. I told you it's fine. I'm happy for you. I want to be best man," he says earnestly.

"But I don't want—"

"You're not," he says firmly.

Miles gives him a doubtful glance, but at least he isn't protesting anymore.

His smile is pasted on his face. He is truly happy that his friend is hitched, but he'd be lying if he says it doesn't hurt. Not when he has missed his own opportunity with the woman he loves. Every time he hears news of a wedding or sees a couple embracing by the corner, he imagines claws digging into his heart. That's how the pain and anguish feel like.

Miles glances at his computer screen, where it reveals a window to show his email inbox. "No news?" He guesses.

He shakes his head, the disappointment welling up within him. He wonders why he even hopes to see something from her. Not once has she replied since his first message to her about two years ago.

He never understood what made her left. She never told him.

"Look, Ford. I don't know if I should say this, but I know you've heard it before, so no harm in saying it again." Miles pause then his voice softens. "Maybe you ought to give up on her."

_Give up on her. _

_It's been so long_, a voice urges, like it has for the past few nights. _Just let it go already._

The little piece of metal seems to tingle next to his heart. A lump lodges itself in his throat. "I can't." He looks up to meet Miles's gaze, knowing his friend means well, but knowing full well his suggestion is impossible. "I can't let her go, Miles."

_Not like this._

Miles rubs his head with a hand. "It's been two years, Ford. I'm not sure you can even find her."

By default, he rejects the thought that perhaps he never will find her.

He will. He knows he will.

One day.

* * *

_So far away from where you are_

_These miles have torn us world's apart_

_And I miss you_

_Yeah, I miss you_

_And I wish you were here_

_

* * *

_

A blond head pops out from behind a cream-coloured door with simple designs. The little mouth parts in a smile to reveal tiny teeth as blue eyes sparkle with delight. The young boy emerges from the room shyly and heads towards her. His arms are outstretched. She smiles, picking him up, and places him on her lap, stroking his back as he leans in towards her.

"Slept well, honey?"

He nods once. His thumb finds its way into his mouth. He sucks on it, staring blankly at the television against the wall. For once she lets him have his way and doesn't bother admonishing him about having his thumb in his mouth. With his other hand, he clutches a fistful of her shirt. She doesn't bother telling him not to do that either.

Not today.

He mumbles something to her. She hugs him closer. "What is it, sweetie?"

"Play."

She runs her fingers through his silky hair. "Later, sweetie."

He pulls his thumb out and stares up at her, his eyes a shimmering blue in the light of the morning sun. "Play, Mommy?"

She smiles. "Okay," she tells him. "We'll go out and have breakfast and later I'll bring you to the pond to see the ducks."

He grins with pleasure, dimpling. He wriggles down from her lap and stands before her, body trembling with excitement. "Now?"

She swallows her laughter at his impatience. He most definitely has not inherited that trait from her. She points to the partially opened door. "We need to wake Julian up first. Is he still sleeping? Then once you have your bath, we can leave the house and maybe find some pancakes down the road. You like pancakes?"

She smiles wistfully as the little boy bolts back into the room he shares with his cousin, no doubt to wake the older child up. She will have to deal with a grouchy Julian before breakfast. He normally wakes up a little later in the morning. There, as she sits on the chair, she lets the thoughts run through her mind again.

Thoughts of how the two boys look so alike with their pale skin, gold hair and blue eyes that people often mistake them for brothers. Until now, she doesn't know if she minds the assumption. She must not, since she never corrects them whenever they talk as though both of the boys are her sons.

But she knows better.

The older child is her nephew. His name is Julian Carlson. He is nearly five years old. He has never known his father and his mother, her sister, died more than two years ago. She treats him like her own son and he takes her as his mother.

The other boy...the younger one—

Unexpected tears spring to her eyes. Her breath catches in her throat. Unwilling to let the tears fall, she blinks them back, but the thought stubbornly clings to her. She lets it run its course.

_You have a son. A child of your own._

_And his name is James._


	9. Chapter 9

Many thanks. I decided not to be evil and update this so I won't leave you guys hanging.

Now I really need to do WYR for dear xparamorexbabex. ;)

Lor-mats I must wrap up soon or I'll never have a single completed fic. Haha.

koralina Don't blame Juliet. Shame does things to a person and makes her entirely different. :)

* * *

**Chapter 9**

"_Welcome to Knoxville, Tennessee where the local time is 2015. We'll be taxiing to the gate for the next few minutes, so please remain seated with your seatbelts fastened until the captain has turned off the seatbelt sign."_

_She places a hand on her warm forehead and pushes back the strands of hair that has escaped from the knot she tied at the beginning of the flight. She must look like a sight, with hair out of place and bedraggled clothes, but she doesn't really care, to be honest. She nearly missed the second flight and is grateful to be able to even be on the plane._

_She has had hours to try to clear her head and that makes room for doubt to creep in, doubt that makes her wonder if she has done the right thing by pulling Julian away from all that is close to him, all that is familiar, and planting him in a foreign environment. _

_Maybe she shouldn't have left. Maybe she should have explained. It would have given him a chance._

_Given her a chance._

_Shaking her head, she banishes the thought. Whatever happened, happened. There is no turning back now, no turning back because there is no solution to remove the shame that relentlessly plagues her after all these months. He will never know about that shame because she will not let him know._

_Julian turns away from the window where he has spent the past minute staring out at the wispy clouds. His eyes are still hazy with sleep. "Where we going?"_

"_Away." As she answers, it strikes her that it is the exact reply she has given the man that she left behind. She wonders fleetingly if there will be a time where everything will stop reminding her of the people she has lost._

_Every time she turns, a face, a scent or a certain object, whatever her eyes land on, as long as it holds a similarity to something in her past, it triggers the memories, bringing with them a feeling of homesickness and an overwhelming wave of pain that causes her heart to lurch._

"_Is Mommy gonna be there?" Julian turns back to the window. His finger traces patterns on the glass, patterns that she cannot see. "I didn't see her in the clouds. You said she's up here." _

_She tries to smile. "No, sweetheart." Her voice is all choked up. With no intention to show any signs of breaking down in front of the boy, she swallows hard. "Mommy won't be there." _

_The expression on his face gives nothing away, yet, why does she feel like her heart is breaking into two? _

_She rests her hand on his head as he lets out his breath in a sigh. _

_I'm so sorry._

_

* * *

_

_Dusty._

_She brings her index finger close to her face and wrinkles her nose at the dust collected on its surface. Heading to her bag, she rummages with her other hand for her tissues and wipes her finger with one from the packet. There will be some cleaning up to do in this house._

_To be fair, the place doesn't look bad at all. It's a decent one-storey with three bedrooms and one for storage with the bathroom at the end. The living room is also relatively large compared to her last one. She bought over the house with most of the appliances still intact, with the assurance from the previous owner that everything is in working order and that if any problems crop up, she must not hesitant to contact him.._

_And of course she won't._

"_Are we going to move again?"_

_Julian, in a comfortable Superman-designed outfit, stands on the invisible line between the kitchen and the living room, looking at her after his enquiry._

_She knows how terrible it must be to have plucked him from his safe haven to an entirely unfamiliar area to put up at a hotel for a week or so. But the good news is they won't be moving anymore. She has found the perfect place here to make their new home. She gives him a fleeting smile. "We aren't moving anymore."_

"_I like this place," he comments before wandering into one of the rooms._

_Me too, sweetheart._

_She follows him into the first room, where a queen-sized bed sits comfortably near the middle with two wooden bedside tables. There're even old-fashioned looking lamps on them. A matching dresser with a large mirror is by the doorway, six drawers at the bottom. She looks at the shut window panes and thinks how nice curtains will look at the sides._

_Yes, she likes this place very much._

_Hours later, when the sun has set, when she has covered every surface she has seen with a wet cloth at least once, cleaned every nook and cranny of the rooms and cupboards, settled their dinner, taken a long hot shower, she pulls on a long-sleeved white cotton tee and loose pants, tired and more than ready for bed._

_It is nearing eleven at night and still, Julian is awake. He nestles beneath the new covers, looking tiny in the large bed all by himself. Since Rachel's death, he has been sleeping together with her at nights. It will take a while for him to get used to spending nights alone again. _

"_Sleep time, Bud."_

_The nickname slips out before she has a chance to stop it. Thank God he doesn't notice. _

_He pushes himself to an upright position. Apparently, he still has some energy left in him to last the night. She sits on the edge of the bed with a quiet sigh, meeting his eyes. There is silence except for the slow whirring of the ceiling fan. It is pitch black outside and still getting colder. She feels the chill despite the closed windows._

_Getting up, she heads for the open suitcase she has placed on the floor and fishes for Julian's jacket. She hears the sound of feet hitting the ground and then Julian is beside her._

"_You cold?" She smiles, holding up his blue jacket._

_She helps him into it and as she turns away, a reflection catches her eye._

_She pushes away the folded clothes. Then, she gently picks up a framed photo, a picture of her sister and her. Rachel's bright smile shines from the still frame, warming her heart. They stand together, her arms wrapped about her elder sister, her own smile warm and yet a tad shy._

_She has never been as confident or out-going as Rachel. Her big sister has always been her spokeswoman when she could not gather enough courage to stand up for herself. Rachel was always nagging at her to 'man up' and once in a while, would complain about how tired she was of protecting her younger sibling for so many years._

_But she knows Rachel treasured that relationship, and she still does._

_She strokes her sister's beaming face through the glass, feeling her throat tighten._

_I hope you're happy. Wherever you are._

"_Whose this?"_

_She brushes away the tears gathering in her eyes and looks towards her nephew._

_Julian pulls out a familiar, well-worn baseball cap from the bottom of the suitcase. It's red with a big capital B right at the front. She recalls James wearing it once when he came to their old house. How it got there, she doesn't remember. It must have gotten caught in the wad of clothes she threw in the last time she was packing to leave, in a hurry to catch their flight._

_Julian fixes it on his head. It's much too big and it nearly covers his eyes. He lifts his chin and peers at her with his bright blue eyes. _

_With a smile, she adjusts the back of the cap till it's tighten and it sits almost perfectly on his head. "There we go," she says._

_She guesses there's no harm in letting him keep a memento of their past. _

_He glows, happy with his newfound item. Then he twists to face her, hitting her with a question she never expected him to ask just yet. "James come to visit?"_

_She is at a loss for words. She wonders if he still remembers the last scene in the house, where neither of them were exactly having a friendly conversation. He can't have forgotten that quickly. They won't be seeing James anytime soon, maybe never at all. But surely she can't say this to him, not when he just lost someone dear to him so soon. _

_He cocks his head, awaiting her reply._

"_Maybe, sweetheart," she says softly, touching his face. "Maybe in a while."_

_

* * *

_

"Liet! Jimmy is messing with my cars again!"

Julian's perturbed face meets her in the rear-view mirror. "He keeps grabbing my blue smasher," the five-year-old complains in annoyance.

She shakes her head, her hair newly cut and just brushing her shoulders. "Just give him one of your toys to hold," she tells him in a tone that plainly says he ought to know better by now. Directing her focus back to driving, she speeds up a little, overtaking a dirty white van.

"I did, but he wants the blue one," Julian grumbles. "Take this, Jimmy. This one's mine. Mine. No touching, understand?"

She ventures a quick glance at the kids in the backseat in the mirror. Her son is pouting but at least he isn't looking like he's about the burst into tears.

She enters the parking lot of The Breakfast Place, which is an odd name to call it because it's open for all meals until night. It's a kid friendly restaurant that has become one of their favourite haunts. She comes to a stop under a shade of an oak tree, and a memory flashes through her mind. She remembers the last time she went on a road trip with Rachel and they parked under a tree for a couple of hours, they found that ants somehow made their way into their car. She had a hard time cleaning them out.

"I want pancakes with lots of syrup," Julian states loudly, his cap backwards on his head.

"Me too," Jimmy nods, holding on to her hand. He looks up at her, squinting a little against the morning sun.

They enter the place, all toys left in the car, with her forbidding them to even get close to the playground until they're done with breakfast. Julian salutes, acknowledging her words, and her son nods obediently. The waitress takes down her orders and within a couple of minutes, their food arrives.

"I want those." Julian bounces on his seat as he points to the plate of steaming pancakes.

She helps Julian pour maple syrup on his pancakes because she knows he'll get too much on them if she leaves him to do it himself. Then she cuts Jimmy's one into bite-sized pieces before she lets herself get to her French toast and scrambled eggs.

"School starts next week," Julian reminds her before stuffing pancake into his mouth.

At least he remembers he ought to chew with his mouth closed.

The boy has grown to be a little heartbreaker with his perpetual mischievous grin and glowing blue eyes. She knows little girls in his school always sticking close to him during playtime, demanding his attention, or striving to sit next to him on the bus. Julian never fails to tell her and wears a smug grin when he does every time he returns home from his class. He knows he's a very likeable boy and very bright. Even his teacher has commented the same.

Rachel would love to know how well her boy has turned out.

And Jimmy. He's almost like a carbon copy of Julian when he was two. But of course, Jimmy has dimples, unlike his cousin, something he inherits from his father. How those help to endear him to strangers.

James will love to know how much his son resembles him. So much alike that not once can she look at her son without seeing his father's image in him.

The guilt pricks her again, but just like every other time, she brushes it away. She knows it will come back though, just like an irritating fly that you think you've shooed away but it always comes back. Deep inside, she is aware that keeping the truth from James is far from the right thing to do. If she places herself in his shoes, she will most certainly not like to be deprived of knowing the fact that she has a child.

And yet, she has her reasons. Like—

"We're done."

She is pulled from her thoughts by Julian's statement that they are finished with breakfast, and true enough, they are. Even the glasses of orange juice are empty. Surprise, surprise. Jimmy's mouth is dirty. She needs to wipe it. Then she looks down at her plate where a barely touched piece of French toast is left with cooling scrambled eggs.

Hm.

They go to the pond she promised to bring them earlier. It is located a little way behind the place where they had their meal. Walk a couple of feet under the canopy of trees and you'll see a nice-sized pond hidden from public view and free from the noise of traffic. Two or three ducks float on the surface, ignoring the intruders as they paddle in the water.

"Can't we feed them a little?" Her nephew begs, standing at the edge of the pond, letting the tips of his tennis shoes touch the water.

She shakes her head firmly. "Not allowed, Julian."

"Aw," he groans. "Ah, I'm going to look for stones to skip."

"Don't go too far," she calls after him. Jimmy makes a move to follow but she pulls him back. "Uh-uh. You sit here with Mommy, okay? We'll watch the ducks."

There are benches scattered all around the pond, five in total, rough wooden benches for the scarce visitors that make their appearance once in a blue moon. She takes the one next to the big rock, the closest to the pond. "See that one," she indicates to the large brown duck diving in the water. "He's looking for breakfast."

"I had breakfast," Jimmy gazes for a long time at the bird then at her. "Pancakes," he adds.

"Yeah."A smile nudges her lips. "Pancakes."

"Duck eat pancakes?"

"Oh no. No, they don't eat pancakes, sweetie."

"Oh." There's a pause. "Why?"

"Well, because...they don't. They like to eat the things under water."

He scrambles to his knees on his seat. "Like?"

"Like bugs and all that."

"Why?"

She sighs. "Because they're not like us."

"Oh."

"_Liet!" _

Pounding feet saves her from more questions. Julian crashes out of the trees excitedly. She's aware it's the only loud noise in the serene place.

Oh well. Kids are kids. You can't deprive them of being noisy.

He drops next to her on the bench and pulls his cap off. Holding out his hand, he shows her his collection of rocks. "Wanna play?" He grins, eyes glowing with pleasure.

Ah, why not? It's been a long time since she's skipped stones.

"Come on, James," she brings her son to the water's edge where Julian is carefully placing his rock storage on the ground. "I'll teach you how to skip stones."

* * *

_It's been a beautiful wedding, a joyous occasion. For the first time in a long time, he actually feels a sense of happiness, though not for him but for his friend. Still it counts. Now he stands in the line to greet the newly wedded couple._

_He shakes Miles's hand, congratulating him, then pulls him in for a man hug, thumping the bridegroom's back twice. "Can't keep bein' reckless and all that now, partner," he remarks with a grin._

"_Now who's talking about who," Miles jokes. "Thanks, Ford. I appreciate you doing this for my big day."_

"_Ah. Wouldn't have missed it for the world."_

_Miles glances at the long line of well-wishers. "Well, guess I'll see you in a week's time?" He's taking a break for his honeymoon, of course._

"_Maybe. Uh, I'll be leavin' tonight actually." He shuffles his feet awkwardly. "Sorry I didn't tell you earlier, but I didn't want to bother you with the news with your weddin' comin' up."_

"_Wait, what? You're leaving?" Miles stares at him, aghast. Then he says, "Okay, look. Stay here. I'll be with you in ten minutes. I've got people to meet and greet and all that. But I will come and I will talk to you."_

_He wanders to one of the white-clothed tables, lingers there for a moment before choosing a wedding cocktail. Then he heads over to a corner to wait for his partner to extract the rest of the information from him. The large reception room is teeming with people he doesn't know. Where has all his colleagues disappeared to? _

_Minutes later, from the corner of his eye, he sees Miles heading towards him, white jacket and all. _

_He starts talking even before Miles comes to a stop. "I've already told Wilson. I needed a break to go back home and visit my relatives."_

"_Visit your relatives," Miles repeats in disbelief. _

"_Yeah."_

"_The ones that have not existed until recently."_

_He breaks into a smile. "They're glad to know I'm comin'."_

"_Oh come on, Ford," Miles plants his hands on his hips. "What's this really about? You know you can talk to me. I don't believe this bullshit about visiting relatives. It's something else, isn't it?"_

_He rubs his head, avoiding the question. "I've taken a month off, so I'll see you as soon as I can."_

_Miles eyes him. "Fine," the man finally says. "I expect you to be back to normal when you get back, Ford."_

_He doesn't need to ask what normal refers to. He knows._

_

* * *

_

The scenery whizzes past in a blur. He's been driving for a couple of hours now. He's going to need a place to stay after getting dinner. It will be dark soon. He spots a large yellow building with a red-tiled roof in the distance and a massive lit sign that indicates that food is available there.

He makes a stop there, orders a side of fries and the main course of pan-fried fish with a small salad that comes together.

Greens are, after all, good.

He dips the fries in chilli sauce, finishes the seafood and salad before downing his coffee. Then he settles his bill, and while pushing the door open on his way out, notices a crudely made signpost at the side to his left. He is curious. As he stands there, looking up at it, he has a sudden compulsion to follow the arrow written in chalk.

Why not? After all, he has time. Plenty of time, in fact.

So he heads into the trees as the descending sun casts a fading warm orange light to guide him. The narrow dirt path soon opens up to a large open space with a big pond smack right in the middle. Oak trees and pine trees surround the water. As he walks to the edge of the pond, a brown-feathered duck appears from behind some weeds. He watches it for a moment or two.

It is quiet.

Peaceful.

He tugs at the chain around his neck, and the ring emerges from beneath his shirt. It rests in his palm. It feels as though it weighs more than it really does. It feels like he holds the weight of the world.

He fixes his eyes on the metal circle with the three small sparkling diamonds.

Miles is right. Perhaps he needs to stop pining for a woman who will never come back, who left without even giving him the courtesy of letting him know what it was that caused the sudden change in her, who never bothered to reply to a single one of his emails.

He gets the urge to rip the ring from his neck and toss it as far away as he can into the pool. Let it sink into oblivion forever. No more reminders of what he has lost, no more nights of gazing at it, thinking what may have been.

He'll be free.

It tempts him, but he knows he won't do it. He can't do it. Because he loves her too damn much to let her go. His jaw muscle twitches. He swallows, and then, carefully keeps it back beneath his shirt. Maybe someday he'll learn to let go, when the right time comes. But it's not now.

He turns away, read y to leave when a bright shade of red catches his eye. He walks slowly to it as the whole item comes into view.

It's a cap. A baseball cap, to be precise. Red Sox.

Funny, he thinks. He used to own one of these until...

His face darkens. Until he left it in Juliet's house that one time he brought her home. Then he never saw it again.

His heart starts to race as a thought forms in his mind. Can it be that she took it along with her and left this here by accident? Maybe she's here, in Tennessee, right now. Maybe even here, at this very place. This must be a sign, one that says that they are meant to be together, that he shouldn't give up.

Or maybe it's just a coincidence, a voice whispers to him.

He raised his hopes only to have them dashed. As usual. He picks the cap up, feeling as though he has been punched in the stomach, and drops onto the bench by the large rock with a sigh.

Stupid. He's acting like a brainless fool. How many thousands of people own this very same cap in the country?

He places it gently beside him on the bench with a sad smile, heaviness in his heart.

Maybe some people are meant to be alone.

* * *

A silver car pulls into the nearly deserted car park. Car doors slam. A blond woman carrying a dozing toddler hurries into the clump of trees. A young boy is just ahead of her.

Nobody is there at the pond. Not that she expects anyone to be. It is quiet except for the occasional twittering of a bird hidden in the trees and the splashing of a lone duck.

"I sure hope your cap is here, Julian. I turned the house upside down and I haven't found anything." She is wry. "You need to stop misplacing your things."

"It's gotta be here." A troubled frown appears on the boy's face as he scans the surroundings. Then his face lights up. "There it is!" He exclaims and dashes to the nearest bench. His cap lies on the seat, the right side up, undisturbed and waiting. Someone must have found it somewhere and put it there just in case the owner returns.

Which they have. How nice.

Julian grabs it, waves it in the air a couple of times before slapping it on his head, pleased.

"Okay, let's go," she says as Julian returns to her. "Just make sure you don't misplace it anymore. Next time you lose it, you may not find it again."


	10. Chapter 10

eyeon: What in the world is SHE (meaning me or Juliet? :P) thinking?

* * *

**Chapter 10**

"Juliet?"

She spins around in her chair, pulled from her thoughts by the sound of her name. Seeing her boss approaching her desk, she relaxes and smiles.

He taps his silver watch with the gold face. "You're not gonna to get paid for it, you know, Julie."

"And this is my evil boss. Not getting paid for overtime."

His mock sternness dissipates as he breaks into a friendly grin. "I suppose your boys are waitin'. You can finish this up next week. I don't wish to be responsible for keepin' you from your kids." He stands by her cubicle, his tie loosened, sleeves on his button down shirt rolled up, all ready to knock off from work. A gold ring glistens on his left hand. "In all my years in the industry, I've never seen someone as hardworkin' as you. Have I told you that?"

"Only about a million times."

"Not that bad, am I? Even my wife says you're a treasure to the company."

She arches a brow. "Laura sees good in everything, Greg, which is a virtue, but that means even if I was the laziest worker here, she'd have something nice to say about me."

"Good point," he admits grudgingly. "But you have to agree with her. Since a year or so back, I've never found out how you came to work for us. It's almost like you appeared out of nowhere. In my wife's words, a gift dropped from heaven. I mean, think about it, it doesn't make sense. With your impressive resume, you could've found a job anywhere else, but you chose to make a living with this young company of mine that frankly ain't payin' much."

"Well," She takes off her frameless glasses, a pondering look on her face. "Maybe you should just appreciate me and not try to make a mountain out of a mole hill." She smiles. "I looked through the newspapers, your job advert caught my eye and I applied. This gets me through, and as long as I get to use my knowledge somewhere." She shrugs. "And I'm not the brightest bulb in the box really."

Green eyes gaze at her cryptically. "Really? I've never met anyone who has managed to impregnate male mice."

"Touché, Greg."

"Nice of you to finally see the light."

"Whatever it is...I really like it here. You and Laura have been very kind to us, and I wouldn't trade this job for anything else in the world."

"And you know we're more than glad to have you here," he answers cordially. "So we on for tomorrow night, yeah? Laura's lookin' forward to havin' you and the boys over for dinner. She's already plannin' the menu."

Worry shadows her face. "Please tell her not to go to such lengths. A simple meal will be sufficient."

"I'll try, but you know how she's like. She loves havin' people over for dinner, especially kids. Yours in particular. They've got this charm she can't resist. It must be a boy thing," he remarks.

"Some days I see it, some days I don't," she rolls her eyes. "Wait till you have boys of your own. You'll rethink this charm you think you see now."

"That's in the plans, but for now, one baby girl is more than enough to keep us occupied. Can't imagine how you manage to handle two kids on your own. All those nights being kept awake by the cryin'..."

"Practice. Bringing up kids is all done by trial and error. There's no one right way to handle children. Each one is different." She pauses. "But I see you and Laura do fine with your girl. She's such a happy baby."

Greg smiles fondly. "She does make the night interestin'. I've never had my nights divided into quarters before, but now I do. I categorize my time now as before feeding and after feeding." He chuckles. "Ah well, I need to head home now. Family's waitin' for me and so is dinner. Don't stay too long, will you?"

"I got it. I'll see you tomorrow."

Then the office is quiet once again with only the low humming of the air-conditioning. No chatter, no shuffling of footsteps. Most of the lights are turned off except for the ones surrounding her cubicle. From beneath the heavy doors of the office, the white light from the corridor seeps in. She takes a deep breath in the stillness, the cool air causing goose bumps on her bare arms. She pulls the shawl from the back of her chair and wraps it around her.

It is getting pretty late. She must head home soon because firstly, the babysitter is paid to stay only till nine, and secondly, Jimmy can't sleep without seeing her. She tries not to work overtime, because she understands that her kids need time with her. Yet, every once in awhile, the situation calls for it and to be honest, she does like work. She likes experimenting, likes researching.

Promising herself that she will leave in a few minutes, she redirects her attention to her screen glowing in the semi-darkness. She clicks to open the IE window that she has been looking at earlier and the words appear again, each one burning a permanent mark in her mind, igniting emotions that she normally keeps at bay.

Her name stares back at her, and she hears his voice in her head. Low, with the southern tang that she has learnt to love.

_Two years. You've been gone two whole years without telling me why. And still I can't find you._

_I don't know if you read these, and I'm starting to feel like I'm sending these emails just to give myself relief from the feelings that are plaguing me. I write these. And I imagine you read them, and it makes me feel better. You probably think it's stupid. _

_Never mind that you don't reply, or that maybe you don't even read them. I imagine you do, and it gives me comfort, to know you are really there, though I can't touch you. _

_Feel you._

_Two years. You'd think I'd have given up by now. That's what the whole world tells me to do, but I can't. Blame it on stubbornness or maybe something more, but I just can't. I try to forget you and the next minute, I see your reflection looking back at me._

_Where are you, Juliet?_

_Please let me find you. I need to find you. _

I need to find you.

The words echo in her mind, carrying with them a sense of deep desperation and longing. Something inside her stirs. No, she doesn't want to admit that his words reflect her own need but admitting it or not makes no difference. Refusing to acknowledge the truth will just be denial and she knows the truth well enough. Two years of striving to forget and she has never managed to accomplish that goal.

_I need to find you._

Reply him, a tiny voice nudges her. Tell him where you are.

She bites her lip, eyebrows furrowed. _I can't._

Like all the other times, she shifts the mouse to click 'Delete', intending to move the email to join the hundreds in the trash. Yet the words persist in her mind, overshadowing any other thoughts.

_I need to find you._

It is never easy, even after so long, but she knows she needs to remove the message. For the good of both of them, she has to. Her finger hovers over the button uncertainly.

_But I need to find you._

A shudder runs through her body and then something within her gives. She crumples over the table, burying her head in her arms as the tears come, and she starts to cry.

* * *

"Itsy bitsy spider climbing up the spout. Down came the rain and washed the spider out." A boy sings almost inaudibly. "Up came the sun and dried up all the rain, and itsy bitsy spider climbed up the spout again. Itsy bitsy spider—" He stops then, abruptly changing tune. "I'm hungry," he whines.

"You just had lunch, Julian."

"But I'm hungry," he insists.

"We'll get something to eat afterwards."

He pumps his fists in the air. "I want a grilled cheese sandwich and a chocolate muffin."

"Chocolate," Jimmy, visibly subdued, murmurs against her neck. She pats his back soothingly with a hand and he sniffles. He was having a crying spell in the car after accidently knocking his head hard on the window. Who knows how that happened, but he just recovered from it and is now, thankfully, much calmer.

Meanwhile, Julian continues chattering. "At school, the teacher taught us how to spell butterfly. B-U-T-T-E-R-F-R-Y," he spells out in loud, clear letters for her. She wrinkles her brow, thinking something sounds wrong. Is he spelling butterfly or butter fry? Blissfully unaware of his mistake, Julian carries on in an excited voice. "Then she showed us a hamster. It was this small and she calls him Hammy. He's brown and white and has whiskers. He eats hamster food. Liet, can we get one?"

"I'll think about it, sweetie."

_Never underestimate the effectiveness of that line. Always use it when you mean no. _

"Okay. Then during playtime, me and Sarah—"

"Sarah and I," she corrects.

"Sarah and I was trying to build this castle at the sandbox and Conrad stepped on it and kicked it and made sand fly everywhere! I think it went inside Sarah's eye." He points a finger at his own eye socket. Then he pauses as though pondering. "He's a bad boy." As he says that, he looks up at her for agreement.

A simple yes will settle the issue, but no, she needs to think of the other possibilities, like she always does. Complicated Juliet. Always making things difficult for herself. She purses her lips. "Does he have friends?" She asks nonchalantly.

His brow furrows. "Nobody wants to be his friend. He's mean."

"Well, maybe...maybe he's just lonely. And he wants attention."

Julian shakes his head resolutely. "He's a bad boy and he likes to make people cry."

_Ah well. So much for that theory. _"Did they call his parents?"

He shrugs noncommittally, unable to recollect. "Don't know."

"Well, if it happens again, you need to tell your teacher."

At the back of her mind, she wonders if she ought to call up the school and inquire if his parents were informed. If Julian comes back home with a black eye or crying because of this boy, who really is nothing more than a bully - and she knows all about bullies in school having been a victim herself - she will be responsible for calling his parents herself. She has heard plenty of stories about Conrad and wonders why nobody seems to be taking him in hand. But she doesn't want to make a mountain out of a molehill, create a fuss and make life miserable for everyone in the meanwhile.

"I want a story about dragons," Julian muses, the school incident already forgotten.

_Lucky for him._

"During story time, we read this big book about dragons and fire and the ugly monsters and this little boy who saved the town in the end. Can you help me help a book about dragons, liet?"

A blast of air-conditioning hits them the moment they step in, a cool relief from the midday heat. She steers Julian to the right where they then find themselves in the corner meant for children. It is brightly decorated with kids' drawings of people and the green environment framed on the walls. Even the carpet is designed with splashes of colours.

A couple of children looking to be about Julian's age sit in an untidy line by a low wooden shelf, reading. She brings him over and sits him beside a little girl with brown ponytails in a pink dress.

"Alright," she tells him. "Remember what I said just now? What did I say?"

"Don't wander off and stay here until you come back," he repeats word for word.

"Yes, don't wander off anywhere. I'll be back in ten minutes, okay? I won't take long." She plants a quick kiss on the side of his head. "I'll help you find your book later on." Before she steps away, she hesitates. "Are you sure you don't want to follow me there?"

He doesn't, so she leaves him in the children section of the library after a word with the one of the librarians to please keep an eye on him. Descending the steps of the building, she hoists Jimmy higher in her arms and hurries to the pedestrian crossing.

* * *

_Damn hot weather. _

Standing at the crossroads, waiting for the green man, he curses at the hot sun beating mercilessly down on him. For the second time in five minutes, he redials his cousin's number on his cell phone.

_They can't be out at this time, can they? Not just when I'm coming over. They know I'm arriving._

"Hello?" A breathless voice finally answers.

_Oh good. _"Hey. Uh, James here. I just arrived yesterday."

"Oh, hi, James! Nice of you to call," the man greets cheerily. How is it possible for a man to be so upbeat in the morning, he wonders. The light turns green and he steps out onto the road. "By any chance, did you call earlier? Because I think I missed a call."

"Yeah, I did actually. I thought you guys weren't home." He bumps into a woman carrying a toddler, who is walking in the opposite direction. "Sorry," he mumbles, partially turning back, but the flow of the crowd pushes him forward.

"I guess we couldn't hear the phone. It's pretty chaotic here in the house. We probably missed the ringin'. Sorry about that."

"No problem. I just called to say I'll be there in about an hour or so." He stops right before an off-white, towering building with paint starting to peel. It's in need of some attention, he thinks. A little old, intimidating, maybe, but he likes his libraries large. It just means more books for him to read. A month here can allow him to go through at least ten books, maybe more since he's not one big on sight-seeing.

"You know, you really don't need to let me stay at your house. I know Uncle Bob probably asked you to put me up but honestly, I'll be fine in a motel."

"Don't worry about inconveniencing us. We'll love to have you. A month in a motel will cost you and we're really lookin' forward to meetin' you. I haven't seen you in ages."

"Uh...me too. Thanks then," he says because he doesn't know how else to respond. "Well, guess I'll see you later. Okay then. Bye."

He hangs up. _Most uncomfortable call you've ever made, Ford._ At least his cousin seems like a really accommodating and sincere man. That he appreciates. He, on the other hand, seems like an awkward bumbling idiot, just judging by the phone call.

What a contrast.

He puts the memory out of his mind and stands in one of the aisles, alone between the two tall metal shelves stacked with books of all sizes. He takes a slow, deep breath of pleasure.

_Time to dive into the wonderful world of books and pick out a selected few for leisure reading._

* * *

"Julian?"

She crouches beside him, struggling to maintain her balance as she does so. Jimmy still insists on clinging to her. Her arm is starting to hurt from his weight and so is her shoulder, no thanks to the pedestrian that was too busy chatting on his phone to look where he was going.

Julian is still seated where she placed him on the colourful carpeted floor, his blond head lowered to the book on his lap. Without facing her, he jabs the picture of a fiery orange dragon blowing fire at two young astonished boys. "That's me and Jimmy," he says. Then his eyes flicker towards her. "Don't worry. I'll save Jimmy from the evil monster." He scrunches his face up in an attempt to look fierce.

She can't help but laugh. "I'm sure you will, honey. I see you found your book about dragons. Have you chosen others?"

He pats the other two books lying beside him.

"Okay then. Let's go check them out. Then we'll get something to eat before going home. Remember we have dinner at Uncle Greg's tonight."

"I want to swim at Uncle Greg's," he announces as he gathers his books in his arms and struggles to his feet. "I made a friend. Her name's Steph..fa...nie. Her dad drives people and earns thousands of dollars. He buys her dolls and dresses and all."

"Mm, that's nice." She pulls Jimmy away then, forcing him to stand on his own. He reluctantly does so with a whimper and reaches for her leg.

"I'm hungry."

"Books first, then we'll grab something to eat."

As they move away from the shelves, she gingerly massages her sore shoulder, grimacing. Whoever bumped her sure has a lot of strength. She's going to have a hell of a big bruise there tomorrow.

_Damn it. People should really watch where they're going or they're going to hurt someone._

* * *

_Am I lost?_

He considers pulling over to the curb to consult the map again or perhaps give a call to his cousin to reaffirm that he is on the right track. He gives himself a minute in which by then he has spotted a sign that he remembers he's supposed to look out for. He breathes a sigh of relief and swings into the two-lane road that will lead him to his destination. Within minutes, he catches a glimpse of the house that fits the description given to him over the phone. He slows the car as he nears the awe-inspiring modern two-storey.

_Wow. Talk about rich relations._

A strange feeling overwhelms him, one that he recognizes as nervousness. Or maybe it's self-consciousness. He licks his lips as he looks on at the building. But that's ridiculous. James Ford is never one to fall prey to self-consciousness. He's much too strong for that.

Brushing off the annoying feeling, he runs his hands through his cropped hair once, then, gets out of the car. He pauses for a second, drawing in a deep breath, not to calm his nerves, as he tries to lie to himself,

_Just get your ass moving, Ford. Don't be a wuss._

He straightens, pushes his shoulders back and strides with as much confidence as he can muster towards the front door, where a wooden sign with a fancy font greets him with a 'Welcome to the Harris Household'. It makes him hesitate for an instant, but then he lifts his hand to the doorbell, and without allowing himself a second thought, presses the round button.

He hears the muted ring from within and waits, shifting from one foot to the other. He shoves his hands into his pockets because he isn't sure what to do with them.

Then he hears the clomping of footsteps, the fumbling of the knob, and readies himself with a smile that he hopes doesn't look too forced.

A sandy-haired man with a slight build, dressed casually in Bermudas and a short-sleeved cotton shirt, opens the door. He looks to be the same age as James, or perhaps a little younger. A wide smile splits his handsome face as he reaches for a handshake. A petite woman with darker hair appears behind him with a shy but equally welcoming smile.

"You must be James," the man says heartily, greeting him like he's an old friend. "It's great to see you. I'm Greg, and this is my wife Laura. We're glad to have you stay with us. Come on in and we'll have you settled here in no time."


	11. Chapter 11

So sorry for the long wait. I'll be entering Uni soon so things are a little crazy, especially since I'm going to fly halfway around the world for it. Will try to update some Suliet soon!

* * *

**Chapter 11**

_The long and winding road__  
__That leads to your door__  
__Will never disappear__  
__I've seen that road before__  
__It always leads me here__  
__Lead me to your door_

The lyrics of the old Beatles song run through her mind like a train on its tracks as she drives down the road that will take them to the Harris's house. Her finger taps the gray wheel along to the beat of the song in her head and she hums the melody under her breath, steering the car around a sharp bend. As far as she can see, the road ahead is deserted with the exception of her silver Volvo cruising down the left lane.

In the backseat, Julian reads aloud to himself, still stuck on the dragon book. He has a habit of skipping the words he doesn't recognize, which is quite often, so the sentences that she hears sometimes don't make sense. Jimmy, strapped in his car seat, is silent, having fallen asleep halfway into the journey.

Greg has called her a couple of hours earlier to inform her of a slight change in their plans. His cousin has come over to stay so they'll be having another person to join them for dinner. She assures him that she doesn't mind the sudden intrusion, but she wonders if he'd rather have her and the kids over another time. It may be somewhat awkward and uncomfortable for his cousin to have to meet strangers when he just arrived. Greg laughed, saying he has talked it over with his cousin and has seen no problem with their current arrangements.

She glances in the rear view mirror just to check on the kids and notices Julian's blue water bottle lying askew on the seat. Knowing that he has the tendency to forget to tighten the cap, she asks him to right the bottle so there'll be no chance of the water leaking out onto the leather seat.

As they pull into the driveway of the Harris's property, she cautions Julian, "Remember your manners, sweetheart." Then she unbuckles Jimmy and extracts him from the car seat, settling him in her arms. His head lolls and finds a place to rest on her shoulder.

She pats his back. "Wakey, sweetheart. We're here," she whispers into his ear. He stirs at the sound. "Jimmy, wake up. Time for dinner. You won't be able to sleep tonight if you don't wake up now."

When they reach the porch, the toddler is a little disgruntled from his short nap, but at least he's awake. Laura greets them at the front door with a warm smile and a kiss for each of them.

Laura Harris is a pretty woman who is about 5'2 with wavy black hair that reaches just below her slender shoulders. Hazel eyes glow with a warmness and a normally shy smile graces her lips. Today she is dressed in mid-thigh shorts and a sleeveless faded yellow top. "Come on in," she tells them in a lilting voice. "Greg's in one of the rooms with his cousin but he'll be out soon."

As they walk into the house, she turns to their hostess with an apologetic smile. "I hope we're not imposing. You've got an unexpected guest and now with us here..."

Laura waves off her protests. "Don't be silly. This is a small matter. We're all going to have a good time together."

"You didn't know he was coming?"

"Not until this morning actually. He just arrived yesterday and we got a call from our relative that he'll be here for a month or so. It's not nice to have him stay in a hotel when we've got rooms to spare, right? He seems to be a nice guy. Very charming." She winks at Juliet. "A little older than you, perhaps."

She smiles faintly. "I'm not looking for love, Laura."

"Maybe love's looking for you."

She rolls her eyes and says beseechingly, "Please. No matchmaking today, alright?"

"Fine by me." Laura shrugs. "Drink?"

"I want iced tea," Julian pipes from where he has found a seat on the cream-coloured couch with an olefin fibre cover. Juliet raises her brows then. He catches her meaningful look and adds meekly, "Please."

"Let me help you," she offers, setting her bag down by the glass coffee table.

"Oh, no. It's okay. You know what I'll say. Just make yourself at home. If the kids want to watch tv, you know how to operate the remote control. You do let them watch cartoons, don't you, Juliet?" She giggles before disappearing into the kitchen.

Ah, good friend she is. She feels her heart warm as she lowers herself onto the couch and lets Jimmy wriggle into the space between her and Julian. Laura's like her surrogate sister, if one can put it that way. No one that can take Rachel's place in her heart, but if there's someone she can call a close friend since she moved here two years ago, that person is Laura Harris.

Pulling herself from her thoughts, she turns her gaze to the various items just beneath the glass surface of the table. Some parenting magazines neatly in a stack, a novel or two, and a Bible. A Pilot pen lies just on top of the Bible.

Low voices carry to her from somewhere within the house.

Must be the men, she deducts.

A loud mew catches her attention and within the second, she sees a flash of gray-black and white, bouncing across the floor to the couch. Jimmy giggles, dimpling for the first time since his nap, as the family cat, fondly known as JC for 'Just Cat', springs onto the seat onto Julian's lap, purring and pushing its head repeatedly against his chest. She rubs its body with a hand, grinning. "Hey there, JC. What's up?"

"Three iced teas prepared and ready to be downed," a cheerful voice announces. Laura sets the small plastic tray with tiny flower vines on the table, loaded with two matching cups and one glass of lemon tea.

"Uh, two's fine, Laura. Jimmy doesn't drink much."

"Guess I'll take this cup then," their hostess replies with a grin. Lifting the cat to the side, Julian scrambles from the couch and takes his drink from Laura. "Thank you," he says politely.

"Don't spill it," she warns her nephew.

"Spilled tea can be cleaned up," Laura jokes.

"Be a mess on your couch. Trust me. You should take a look at mine. It's a blessing I don't have many visitors over."

"Kids will be kids."

"I know. I keep telling myself that. I don't mind it at home, but this isn't their place even though we're very much at home here." She smiles at Laura. "Chelsea asleep?"

"Like what Greg says, if she's not crying, she's sleeping." The dark-haired woman chuckles. "She fell asleep about an hour ago. She'll be up at about ten or eleven for her milk and back to sleep again. It's like this endless cycle of sleeping and eating for her."

"That's how it was for me too," she says sympathetically.

Just then, they hear voices increasing in volume and approaching footsteps.

"Ah," Laura gets up from her crossed-legged position on the floor. "The guys."

"...so, if you're available tomorrow, perhaps we can just show you around if you're not sure where to start..."

She coaxes her lips to form a smile to greet the men, somewhat aware of Julian slurping his tea by her side. As the men step into view, her eyes land on Greg first. Then, her gaze sweeps past him, and collides with the sight of the one man she never expected to see.

Time freezes then. Her palms are suddenly damp. Her heart feels like it's in her throat. She whitens, her breathing grows shallow. The air in the room thickens till it felt like the oxygen has been sucked out. The very face imprinted in her mind, the face that has haunted her for the past two years, meets her gaze. The voices around her have vanished and she hears a deafening silence.

But for one single name that whispers through her mind.

* * *

Blank.

His mind is blank. Like someone has wiped out everything from it or every brain cell has died.

Or something.

He can't even begin to think of a swear word that will fit in the moment. His mind is utterly, uselessly _blank_ and he stands there like a stupid frozen piece of human flesh, glued to the floor, staring at her like an idiot.

_I've found her._

Finally, a thought penetrates the wall surrounding his mind.

His heart is hammering within his chest. His breathing is heavy. It is her, no doubt about it. It's her. Shorter hair, yes, but the same golden blond that reminds him of the sunshine, the same captivating blue eyes so deep you can lose yourself in them and never want to find your way out again.

And those eyes, wide with astonishment, are fixated on him. She is no doubt equally shell-shocked.

It registers in his mind that he is being spoken to. He mentally jolts himself out of the shock that has gripped him and clears his throat. "Sorry. You were sayin'?"

"I was just doin' a bit of an introduction. This," he gestures to the guests in his living room. "Is Juliet. She works for me and she's a genius. And these two young ones are her kids."

His attention is diverted to the two boys on the couch.

_Two young ones?_

He feels his heartbeat pump up a notch.

Julian.

The boy is taller now, and his hair a shade darker, but he is sure if the child smiles, he will see that the mischievous grin has not changed one bit. Julian is gazing at him curiously. No, he does not appear to show that he retains the slightest memory of him. As the emotions crash into him like a wave, he leans against the wall for support, all the while never taking his eyes off the trio before him.

Neither do the oldest two look away from him.

And then, there is the littlest one, who sits by Julian on the couch, unaware and uncaring of all that is going on. He stares at the blank screen of the television, one hand clutching the fabric of his pants, the other on the cat. His blond hair falls messily over the top of his eyes and he blinks every few seconds as though he just woke up from his nap.

He frowns, something niggling at the edge of his mind. He can't put his finger on what seems wrong about this.

"James."

He startles and twists around. The amusement on Greg's face has now turned to puzzlement with a tinge of worry. He tries to smile. "Sorry. I haven't been sleepin' well. I probably just need a rest. Had a long day." He looks back to Juliet, who skilfully averts his gaze by turning her attention to the boys beside her.

He presses his lips together, brows drawing together again.

_You better not run away this time, Juliet. We've got plenty of talking to do._

* * *

In the middle of the table stands a pretty transparent vase holding a bunch of daisies. It'll all be well and dandy if it isn't for the heavy silence hanging over their heads. The Harrises obviously attribute the awkwardness to them being strangers, but both of them know better.

She has been staring at her steak for that few seconds, she's liable to bear a hole in it from the intensity of that stare. She closes her eyes then, as though still in disbelief about how this situation has come about.

"So, James, what is it that you do?" He looks at Laura as her hostess lifts a scoop of mashed potatoes from the bowl onto Julian's china plate.

The boy fidgets. "I don't like." His eyes flicker to Juliet and he reduces his mumbling into silence, a pout marring his face.

"Uh, I'm a cop," He replies. "I've worked in LA for about 5 years now after askin' to be transferred."

"You must really like your job," Greg remarks.

"Best job I got in the world. I used to say I'd work 24/7 if I could."

"Ah, sounds like what Juliet here would say too."

"Really?"

The spotlight is now on her and she looks like she'd rather be anywhere else but here. In fact, she'll probably love it if a hole opens up in the ground and swallows her up whole. At least that must be better than suffering under _his_ scrutiny for the entire meal.

"You know I love what I do," she replies weakly.

"Yeah, she's got this amazing understanding of our research. She knows all the intricate details that I swear we won't even know if she isn't here to point them out to us."

She smiles uncomfortably.

"Seems like both of you have a lot in common."

_A lot more than you'd ever thought, Greg._

He turns his head to look at her and catches her staring at him. She flinches and pulls her eyes away as though she's just been burned by his gaze.

_Okay. If you doesn't want to talk..._

"How long have you guys known each other?"

Greg ceases his motions of cutting a piece of steak, pondering. "I'm not too sure, about two years ago, maybe. When she came to my office on day to interview for a job. That right?" He turns to the ladies on his right for confirmation.

Laura nods. Juliet smiles. Barely.

"There you go. About two years ago." He grins before piercing the meat and popping it into his mouth.

"Ah," is all he says. Juliet meets his eyes again and this time, she doesn't look away. He holds her gaze steadily and with newfound boldness, he asks, "Julian and Jimmy," How cool is it that Jimmy is another form of James anyway? "Sure look very alike. Uh...I'm guessin' their dad isn't around?"

Greg hesitates at the personal question. Laura glances at Juliet.

_Now no one's going to speak for you. Let's have you talk, Doctor Blondie._

Her lips twitch. She blinks. He watches her clench her jaw once and after a second's pause, she replies so smoothly he marvels, "Their father's not around anymore."

It has got to be a lie. It has to be. But her expression is so flawlessly unreadable and confident that for a moment he starts to doubt.

Yet, it has to be a facade, hasn't it?

In any case, by hook or by crook, he will make her speak. If not today, then tomorrow. Now that he has found her, he is most definitely not letting her vanish into thin air again.

Especially not when he has a growing suspicion that Jimmy is of some relation to him.


	12. Chapter 12

Thanks for the reviews, guys!

eyeon: Yes, I'm sure my uni in US will have internet access. :P And this update is quicker than a week...but I'm not sure it's what you want. Lol.

* * *

**Chapter 12**

It is 1AM in the morning and the whole world is sleeping soundly with one exception. She paces up and down before the fireplace in the living room, hands clenching and unclenching, every thought in her head going in every possible direction. Each minute that passes by finds her even more agitated. The appearance of the one man she has thought she left behind has done what nothing else can do. It has no doubt caught her by surprise, leaving her flustered and near panic in the wee hours of the morning.

_What kind of game are you trying to play, James? You know how incredibly awkward it must be for me and still you made things even more difficult by trying to bait me. You are the most infuriating man I've ever met. The most idiotic man I've ever come across! _

She slows her pace as her thoughts take a different turn.

Never mind that his later reaction to finding her has been one of sheer delight. Never mind how she noticed that his eyes shone like stars when he gazed at her over the table like they used to. Never mind that despite the initial shock, she actually looks forward to seeing him again.

She sighs and plops down onto the edge of the couch, letting her head fall into her hands. She is in a dilemma with not a shred of idea where to start or even how to start coming up with her solution. Her own heart has betrayed her by revealing a desire to meet him again, to want to go back to when they were together.

But then in the midst of sinking into a depression, she stiffens.

She can't do this. She can't just let him waltz back into her life like nothing's happened because something did happen. Has she forgotten why she left? Why she chose to wrench herself from his life? Did she go through so much, put all of them through so much pain just to have it happen all over again?

And Jimmy. How will she tell him? That she kept his son a secret from him all these years?

Maybe that's one idea. Tell him and get him mad at her so he won't have any hopes of getting back with her again.

She hits her head with her palms as she lets out a silent scream. Then, once she has run out of breath, she flips down on the couch and stares at the ceiling. She breathes slowly, letting a calmness fill her.

He still doesn't know why you left, a voice tells her.

That's right. He doesn't know anything and she is not planning to tell him a single thing any moment soon. Who knows, perhaps he already has moved on. Perhaps he already has another woman in his life. No need to cause any more trouble in his life.

But when she remembers the look in his eyes, the look of pure joy that reached right into her, she knows with a certainty that it is impossible.

And whether that is for the best or not, she honestly has no idea.

* * *

Six in the morning. He has been lying on the strange bed for hours, eyes wide open without the slightest hint of sleep. Rest has evaded him since the previous night. His mind wouldn't stop long enough for him to catch some shuteye.

He rolls over and sits up. Runs a hand through his hair. Then he gets up and slowly makes his way to the door. The house is still dark. Everyone else must still be sleeping.

He heads down the hallway to the bathroom, his footsteps the only sound echoing in his ears. He flips the switch and the light flickers on in the bathroom. At the white porcelain sink, he lifts eyes to the reflection in the mirror. It has water spots on it. Turning on the tap, he cups a little water in his hands and wipes it across the surface. He blinks at the slightly distorted image looking back at him. Notices the tired redness in his eyes. Examines the faint dark circles. He rubs the stubble on his chin.

_See what you do to me, Juliet._

He drops his hand and rests his weight against the sink. The heaviness is so great in his chest he feels like he's struggling to keep his head above water just to breathe.

Their father is not around anymore, she said. But it is less about the little she said to him but the look that she had when she met his eyes. Throughout the entire night, he replayed the image of her in his mind. The first time she saw him, the change that came over her once she realized he was there, the lack of emotions she had during dinner.

That is the worst of them all.

He backs away until he feels the coolness of the tiled wall behind him. Then he slides to the floor, shutting his eyes and placing his forehead on his arm.

_Oh, Juliet._

_Juliet. Juliet. Juliet._

If this is his bathroom, he'll have trashed it within seconds with the sudden rage coursing through him. It may not necessarily be fury aimed at her. It can be self-loathe. Maybe it's just plain old frustration at not knowing what to do, or how to fix it. What it is he doesn't quite know, but the emotion surging through him makes him want to hit something. Anything.

They say when a guy wants to vent, they prefer to hit, not speak. And that's really what he wishes to do right now but he can't because nothing here belongs to him.

"James?" A half-groggy Greg peers at him from the darkened hallway. He shuffles forward into the light of the bathroom. "It's like six in the mornin'. What are you doin' up?"

"Uh," he glances up almost sheepishly. "Can't sleep."

"Not used to our bed, eh?"

"Not really."

"Somethin' botherin' you?"

Should he tell, he wonders. Will that make things even more complicated by dragging more people into their mess? Or will it be easier to handle since his cousin has known Juliet for two years now?

"James?"

He draws in a deep breath and looks up at the man solemnly. Here goes all or nothing.

"I need your help."

* * *

"Lunch? Yeah, sure. Will you be dropping by later? If not, I can just meet you there. Same cafe, yes? Maybe in fifteen minutes or so. I'll just let Greg know." She picks a wooden pencil from her table and drops it neatly into the cup holder. "You'll call him? Yeah, that's great. That'll do. Alright. I'll see you in a while. Bye."

She sets the sleek black phone back on the desk. Then, unable to help herself, she glances at it from the corner of her eye and wonders why she hasn't received a single call from him during the weekend.

_Maybe he's really mad at you._

No, it can't be, she reasons. When she left that day, he didn't look angry at her, just perhaps a little upset from her response to his appearance.

Or lack of response, to be more precise.

_Well, alright. Then why isn't he calling? There's no other explanation for him not contacting you. Even if he isn't interested in pursuing a relationship with you, it's basic courtesy to call after what you had with him. There is an unresolved situation needs to be resolved. It's not as though he doesn't know that. Or have you forgotten?_

She frowns. That does make sense, doesn't it?

That same voice snickers. _You are so contradictory, Juliet. Now you're supposed to be glad he isn't calling, aren't you? To think you've been losing sleep over him. Get real and be honest with yourself. You miss him and you want him back. Admit it._

She scowls even more stubbornly, knowing there is truth in that particular train of thought.

_Come on. Admitting it is the first step to fixing a broken relationship. Call him._

With a groan, she buries a hand in her hair. Her mind flitters between the two options, weighing each and hating the fact that she is even considering initiating a conversation with him.

"Juliet?"

Greg stares at her quizzically. By the look on his face, it appears he has been standing there for quite a while.

"Sorry. I got a little...lost in thought," she laughs self-consciously. "You're looking for me?"

"Uh, yeah. I got a call from Laura. She said you're going for lunch with her. I was about to leave and saw you haven't left."

She blinks. "I am going for lunch with her, but it's still early. I..." She trails off as she takes in the time on the clock on the wall.

"It's 1:10, Jules."

"She's going to kill me." She grabs her handbag and cell phone from the table. Where did the time go? Biding her boss a hasty goodbye, she hurries down the corridor, fishing in her bag for the car key as she waits impatiently for the elevator to reach the twenty-third floor.

_See? Already you're letting him mess up your life._

She shakes her head with a sigh just as the door before her opens. It is empty. "Get a grip, Juliet," she mumbles as she steps into the elevator. "Just stop thinking about it, alright?"

_You mean him._

Shut up already, she thinks, annoyed.

The cafe isn't teeming with people as it always is, much to her surprise, but she doesn't dwell too much on it. Even more unexpected is that she sees Laura nowhere in sight. She chooses a table by the large window that overlooks the outside of the mall. "I'm waiting for someone," she informs the waitress with a quick smile as she comes to take her order.

She takes a sip from the ice water, nodding her head to a Michael Buble song in the background. She contemplates giving her friend a ring when she hears someone call her name. She turns her head and her lips part in a smile. But upon realizing who stands before her, it soon fades.

James's piercing eyes meet hers. Her heart skips a beat. Once again, she looks away. She hears him pull out the chair opposite her. She inhales slowly though right now, her heart is beating double-time.

He's going to sit down, and he wants to talk. She doesn't want to talk. She won't talk.

"Juliet."

She pretends not to hear him. She's not ready. She—

"Juliet," he repeats, more forcefully this time. She knows he is determined to make her talk. He must be, otherwise, Laura wouldn't have allowed him to use her.

"Please." His voice softens.

She closes her eyes, then, resolving to emerge out of this unscathed, lifts her head. Her fringe falls across her face and unconsciously, she brushes it behind her ear.

He breaks into a smile.

This catches her by surprise and for that one second, she lets down her guard.

"How've you been, Doctor Blondie?"

His smile remains. She finds herself wishing he'll stop smiling or refrain from calling her by _that_ because even after those years, these little things still have the ability to turn her to jelly. And that is not good, not when she's supposed to hold her love for him at bay.

_Oh_. A thought pounces on that gleefully. _So you finally admit that you do love him._

She swallows. _You know, now's really not the right time to do this._

"Juliet?" He leans in slightly. She sees the light in his eyes, and a memory flashes in her mind. Back when they were together. Back when she was at his place. It was late at night when he told her he loved her.

And then he proposed.

Her breath catches in her throat. "I'm all right," she whispers, shifting her eyes to the tabletop. Anywhere is better than at him. The waitress stops by their table again and she expels a soft sigh of relief. She scans the items listed on the menu without actually reading and calls out the last main course on the page. She hands over the menu to the waitress and does all she can not to fidget in her seat.

She senses him studying her. He probably is trying to find the best way not to scare her off.

"This must be fate," is what he says. "Don't you think it's weird? Out of all places, you choose this place to...run to. And two years later, I choose this very same place to come to."

She wishes she found a seat closer to the door so the escape route will be shorter.

"It's strange, isn't it, Juliet?"

She shakes her head before looking at him. "Don't mistake coincidence for fate."

"Come on, Juliet," he scoffs. "Don't give me this kind of..." Realizing that he's raising his voice, he pauses, closing his eyes.

She feels a prick of guilt at putting him through this. "Look, James," she begins. "I don't want things to...to..." She hesitates then, at a loss for words.

"Why, Juliet?"

How can such few words cause so much turmoil within her? Suddenly, everything that she keeps tightly locked in a corner of her mind comes rushing at her, every memory, every emotion. Overwhelmed, she hides her eyes in her hand.

"Don't do this."

To her horror, his whisper causes tears to prick at the back of her eyes.

Oh please, no. She can't cry. Not here. Not now. Not in front of him.

"I can't do it." Her voice is hoarse. She pulls her hand away, knowing her eyes are reddening. "I know this is hard, but...please, go back, James. Go back to LA." Her voice breaks.

It is an uncomfortable silence that has descended on them when their food arrives, but neither makes a move to eat. Food is the furthest thing from their minds at the moment.

"Why won't you—" he cuts off, frustration obvious. He leans back, eyebrows drawn together in a deep frown. "This ain't a game, Juliet. You can't just start a relationship and—"

"You think I treat this as a game, James?" She knows she is venturing out on dangerously thin ice now, and if she isn't careful, she'll go plunging into the bottomless lake of no return. But maybe that's what she wants. She's mad, just not at him. But he doesn't know that. "I thought you knew me better than that."

"I thought you wouldn't be the kind to dump me either!"

"I didn't dump you, James. I—"

"You left me."

And so she did. Nothing she can say will deny that fact.

"Just tell me why you left, Juliet." He stares at her, holding her gaze.

_Tell you? I can't tell you, James. Don't you know it will ruin the rest of what we have?_

"No. I can't." She's having trouble keeping her eyes connected with his. She thanks God her voice doesn't quiver despite the tears teetering on the edge. She needs to leave before she breaks down. "And why did you do this? Arrange this...thing and using Laura to do it?"

"I didn't use her, Juliet. She offered!"

"You could've called me."

"You wouldn't have come. You know that."

It is the truth, but she's not willing to back down. Not now.

"Forget it." She grasps her bag in a swift motion, pushing her chair back. "Thanks for the meal, James." She nearly bolts from her seat as she heads for the door, tears rolling unashamedly down her face. And she won't be looking back.


	13. Chapter 13

I didn't mean to make everyone hate Juliet. :( What say you I wrap this story up soon?

eyeon: You know you love the angst. Hehe. And to think I started this out angst-free.

My eyes hurt from staring at the screen...enjoy!

ETA: LIZ MITCHELL IS NOMINATED FOR AN EMMY!

* * *

**Chapter 13**

It is the day after the incident when Laura calls, and it comes as no surprise. She's been expecting it. Just as she places the last batch of cookies into the oven, the phone rings. _Well, there it is. _The shrill ring resounds through the entire house, stopping only when she picks up the cordless phone in the kitchen.

"Laura."

A chuckle. "The one and only."

"Please don't tell me you're calling for the same reason I'm thinking about."

"Well, if you tell me the reason, I can tell you if it's the same one that's in my head," she teases.

"I'm not falling for that."

"You always fall for it, Juliet."

She rolls her eyes, not admitting anything. "I suppose you're calling just to see how everything went yesterday? You know, I'm surprised you didn't call last night. I was waiting."

"I thought you needed some time."

"To what?" She feigns ignorance. "Let the kids drive me nuts?"

"To think."

"I had the whole night for that, Laura."

"He didn't mean it. Whatever he did, Juliet, he thought it was for the best."

She rubs a finger against the wall tile. "You don't even know the whole story."

"I know enough. I know both of you have something going on and you didn't tell me?"

"It's complicated."

"Stop evading."

"I'm not...at least not intentionally." She turns her gaze from the tile to the bright sunny day outside. Now if only her mood reflects the perfect weather.

"I'm really sorry about making you think you were meeting me. I had a tough time before deciding to do that. I'm sorry."

"I don't blame you."

"He said you wouldn't see him otherwise."

_Well, that's right._

"He came back yesterday, went straight to his room without a single word except for goodnight. I think he's still hiding in his room." Pause. "Hiding's probably the wrong word to use, but whatever. Tell me that's not normal for him."

"He's probably sleeping. Tired. I don't know what's normal, Laura. I mean, come on. I haven't seen him for years."

"So?"

"So that means I don't know what he's like anymore. I don't know how he's been living, what he's been up to, who he's been dating—"

"I highly doubt he's been up to dating."

She puffs out her breath. Where exactly is this conversation heading anyway?

"I don't like to interfere, Juliet. I just want to help. He didn't say much. He just said he knows you from somewhere and he wanted a chance to talk to you alone. We kinda figured the rest out. Just a general idea...you know."

"Mommy?" Jimmy calls from just outside the kitchen.

"Hold on. Do you need something, Jimmy?"

He has a colourful worm that trails on the floor under his arm. "Julian wants cookie."

"Give Mommy five minutes, okay?"

"Okay." He disappears back to the playroom.

"Right," she returns to her conversation on the line. "Where were we?"

"Cookies? Oatmeal or chocolate chip?"

"I'd love to tell you oatmeal, since it's the healthier choice but no, I made chocolate chip cookies today. I tried one. Yum. Wish you were here."

"Payback time eh?"

She laughs. "I don't do tit for tat. Anytime you want. Just drop by for those cookies."

"I know someone who'll be more than happy to."

She groans.

"No kidding. He'll be there tonight if you let him. Give him a chance, Juliet. Don't run away. Just let him talk. I really think he means no harm."

She sucks in her lower lip as she pulls at the bottom of her shorts. _It's not him. It's me._

"Okay? Just one good talk. Sort out all your problems. Clear the air. All that stuff."

"He doesn't know...where I live," she says. _Stupid question, Juliet._

"I think he's pretty good at directions." She can almost hear Laura's smile through the phone. "Do you want me to be there?"

She runs the offer through her mind before dismissing it within the second. "No. But thanks."

"Tonight. Alright?"

"Yeah."

"You'll be okay?"

"Hm."

"Right then. You'll be fine. Call me."

* * *

He knows Laura rang her to talk things out. That's how he has this opportunity right now. Seems that everything has been settled. She's agreed to meet him, talk things out. Staring at their house just as hour or so after the sun has set, he hopes he has given her enough time to sort out her thoughts.

He starts up the pathway to the front door. _Here goes nothing._

He raps on the door and waits, like he has for so long, for the woman who has caused much pain and love in his life to allow him into her home. A few seconds later, she stands before him, a tentative smile which he's sure mirrors his on her face.

His mouth is dry. He clears his throat. "Uh...hi."

"Hi," she replies, equally awkward.

"Can I come in?"

"Oh. Yeah." She steps aside and widens the opening. He knows she's as nervous as he. Every movement she makes is skittish, which is strange, because the only time he's seen her like this is when they first met.

He enters the house, notices how immaculate the place seems to be. As far as he can see, no dirty dishes in the sink, cups all hanging up neatly, the pictures on the mantle are perfectly placed, nothing on the sofa, no books lying about, coffee table clean albeit a small plate of cookies arranged in some sort of order. "Nice place," he comments.

"It's not usually this neat," she tells him in a still cautious tone. "The boys usually mess things up."

"Kids," he lets out a soft chuckle. "Are they sleepin'?"

"Yeah."

_So that leaves us free to talk out whatever needs to be cleared._

She doesn't have to say it out loud for him.

"Uh...have you eaten dinner?"

"I had dinner at Greg's."

"A drink? We've got water, milk or...water."

"Water's fine."

He takes a seat on the couch, struck by how foreign each party seems to be. _We're acting like strangers._ His nerves are on edge, but he's trying not to appear as tense as a coiled wire. He hopes it's working. She gets his water and proceeds to sit on the opposite end on the couch while silence dominates the room.

"I like your hair."

She touches the tips of her shortened hair. "Thanks."

Then a hush falls over them again.

"I think—"

"I'm sorry," she starts.

They stop, then, he gestures towards her with a fleeting smile. "Ladies first."

She directs her eyes to somewhere across the floor. "Yeah. I just want to apologize for my outburst the other day. I...I wasn't thinking properly. I probably made a scene. I'm sorry."

"Is it that bad?"

She stares at him. "What?"

"Seein' me again. Does it bother you so much?"

She still wears that slightly baffled expression on her face.

"It's like every time you see me, you'll wish you didn't. I mean, you don't wanna talk, you don't want anything to do with me. You don't want me around." He pauses for a breath. "I really wanna fix this, Juliet. But I can't if you won't let me."

"It's complicated." For the second time that day, she finds herself using the same excuse.

"Don't cop out on me, Doctor Blondie."

"Actually, I'm not a doctor anymore. I'm more of a researcher. I experiment."

_Well. _

"And I'm not trying to cop out, James."

"Then tell me." His light blue eyes look right into her. "Tell me what happened."

_She's scared. _The thought occurs to him as he looks at her. There is fear, there is doubt, there is uncertainty in her expression. And he wants to know why. He wants to be the one to take it all away. Be the one to give her what she needs. But he can't unless she allows him into her secret world. Let him know the source of her anguish. It has been all he has wanted for so long.

"Please."

She bits her lip. "Edmund." She appears to have difficulty in getting the word out. "He's my...uh—"

"Ex-husband," he fills in for her.

She nods almost non-perceptibly. He watches her so intently that he notices the slight hesitation, the movement of her throat as she swallows. Her voice is low, shaky. "You remember that night you were supposed to be looking after Julian for me?"

His forehead furrows.

"Then you had to go for a stakeout? At a...a bar? And you left him with Sarah?"

A memory nudges at the back of his mind. Juliet not arriving home on time. An impromptu stakeout at the bar with Miles which turned out to be a false alarm. "Yeah, I remember that night. I remember that bar. Some raunchy place with a cheesy name...Dancing Stars or something like that." He smiles to himself. "You know what's strange. I thought I saw you. It was just the hair that reminded me of you though. I was tellin' myself it was impossible."

She blanches. "You saw me?" Her voice is barely a mere whisper.

"I thought I—"

"I was there."

He is speechless.

"He asked me to. He said he could help Rachel. I thought...I believed he could because..." She falters, then, takes a breath through her mouth. "He asked me to stay for a drink. There was something he did to it. I don't know what he put in my drink. I just felt so tired, I...I fell asleep..." She trails off, her eyes glazing over as the memory of that night fills her mind. Her fingers tighten on the edge of the couch. Her knuckles turn white. "I woke up...in his bed."

_In his bed. _

This hits him even harder than the first blow.

_He drugged her. So he could have her...in his bed._

The rage roils inside.

_Edmund Burke. Edmund Burke. Edmund Burke._

A buzz starts in his head, preventing any logical thought to process. His hands grip his knees. He knows if he doesn't, they'll form fists that will smash into the objects surrounding him. Sooner or later.

"I didn't want to tell you." She is stumbling over her words. "I couldn't. I thought...I thought you..."

_You thought I'd act like this, so you didn't. You thought you weren't good enough for me. You thought—_

A mixture of rage, pity, disbelief chokes him like a hand around his throat and a seething anger flows through his veins for that one despicable man he'll love to pummel to dust. He doesn't even know he's been holding his breath until his lungs ache for the oxygen.

"I'm sorry."

He shakes his head, unable to speak, and rubs the lower portion of his face with a hand.

_And Jimmy..._

He addresses the thought that has been bugging him. "So...so Jimmy...he's—"

"Yours."

She hides nothing, her eyes wide and sincere.

"If you're wondering how I know, I checked. I've read your file before back at the hospital." She gives a short laugh. "It's not Edmund's style to create little images of himself anyway."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I couldn't." She hesitates. "I shouldn't have gone."

He lets out a long drawn-out sigh.

"It's my fault to—"

"_No._ It wasn't your fault." Each word has an emphasis on it. His head throbs as though it may burst anytime. Then something within him does and he jumps up from his seat. "Damn it, Juliet. Do you know how stupid that was? Do you know what you put me through? For two whole years. _Two. Years._ You left just like that with all this. You never said anythin'. I went nuts. I thought I...I can't believe...I can't—" He breaks off, knowing he's getting too agitated to continue. He throws a look at her, knowing she isn't feeling much better either. "He never contacted you?"

"No."

"We should have him arrested. He had no consent."

"James, it was me. I should have—"

"For the last time, Juliet, it ain't your fault!" He glares at her. Then he mutters, "The only thing you're guilty of is keepin' quiet. 'Bout everythin'."

She lowers her gaze to her lap. "Sorry." Then she flinches, thinking she sounds like a broken record.

"So you aint' gonna report him? What if he does it to some other woman?" He pierces her with an intense gaze from under his brows. When she didn't reply, he growls almost inaudibly and drops back onto the couch, already regretting taking such a harsh tone with her. "Ah, forget it. And don't you say sorry." When he receives no reply, he peeks at her with his peripheral vision.

She looks utterly miserable.

"You okay?" He asks gruffly.

"Yeah."

"I thought it was somethin' I did to make you run away, you know. When you gave me back my ring, you broke my heart." He manages an offhand tone that doesn't seem to match with his words. He shrugs. "Anyway. I think you like your little house here."

She smiles faintly. "We adjusted. It's a nice place."

A hush again. He takes a sip of cold water from the glass. She rubs her temple with her fingers.

"Well," he breaks the silence. "Guess I better get goin'."

Is that a glimmer of disappointment he sees in her eyes?

"Okay," she says. Her tone is fairly neutral, like what a stranger will use to another. He should've known better than to expect more from her.

"Can I...can I see him, before I go?" He asks in a low voice. He knows she will not deny his request. She does owe him that much. Without a word, she leads him down the darkened hallway and stops in front of a smooth oak-panelled door at the end.

"They share a room," she says quietly before pushing down the handle. The door drifts open soundlessly to reveal a room lit by night lights with laser cut spin shades. Fishes revolve around the room on the lovely deep-blue walls, allowing one a sense of being immerged in the ocean. Low wooden shelves with books and toys, a train lies on its side, abandoned on the floor.

He shifts his gaze. Both boys are clothed in blue flannel pyjamas, soundly asleep on twin beds. Perfection. His stomach knots, his heart gives a jerk. What if he had been here with them, watching them grow, teaching them everything boys need to know?

He notices Julian's blanket on the floor. The boy's limbs are splayed out everywhere in his sleep. A smile tugs at his lips. He leaves the doorway, further into the room where he picks up his blanket and proceeds to tuck Julian in. Then he steps back, lost in the rush of thoughts that fill his mind as he looks at the boy that had once been a part of his life.

"He needed me," he says softly.

"Yeah. He did."

He acknowledges her words. Turning away, he walks the few steps to Jimmy, who loosely hugs a worn teddy bear. He crouches down before the bed, watching the boy sleep, watching him breathe, his own flesh-and-blood, and his thoughts come to a standstill as he watches. His eyes become misty.

He feels her hand on his shoulder, a light touch with a purpose to comfort. Yet, it only aggravated his pain.

_You knew I have a son. But you withheld that from me._

Anger sparks within him.

_Those years I will never be able to get back._

He stands, shrugging off her offering of consolation. For the first time since he's met her here, resentment fills his heart. Intent on a confrontation, he faces her.

But teary blue eyes, full of regret and shame, stop him.

_She has been through enough._

"I'm sorry," she whispers.

His expression softens. "There're some things that an apology ain't gonna,make right."

"I know." She raises her eyes to his. Something flickers across her face.

_No. Don't run away. _He searches her eyes. _Trust me, Juliet. Trust me. _He never lets her look away as he brushes his hand gently down her hair at the side of her head. He feels her loosen up. The faintest smile lights up his face. For two long years, he has missed running his fingers through her hair, and now...

He leans in and kisses her. Her lips press against him with the slightest pressure, a response that made his heart skip a beat. He pulls away. His hand curves to cup her face, her skin against his, and he wishes he can stop time right at this moment. "I missed you," he whispers, an ache starting up in his chest as he strokes her cheek with his thumb. "So much."

_I missed you too._

He reads that as clear as day in her eyes. There is a sudden tugging at his heart, a homesick kind of feeling, only that it is directed at her, and it is almost unbearable.

"Come back with me," he whispers with a kind of desperation that underlies his tone. "You, Julian...Jimmy. You know we can make this work."

"James—"

"I need you. I love you."

As if that isn't already plain enough to see. But sometimes, words just need to be said.

She doesn't know how to react to his confession. All he really wants to hear is her saying those same words back to him. Whether he knows her true feelings or not, he needs to hear it straight from her.

"Come with me." He doesn't care if he comes across as begging. Every fiber in his being strains for her to say yes. Yes to going back with him. Yes to being a family together. Yes to marrying him.

She breaks eye contact, brushing wisps of hair aside. And then she finally says, "Let me think about it."

_That's better than saying no, ain't it? Or is that just another way of rejecting?_

She is examining him, judging by his expression, waiting for his answer.

He manages a smile. "I'll be waitin', Doctor Blondie."


	14. Chapter 14

Sorry for taking the longest time to update. I haven't been in the mood to write lately, plus I'll be flying to US for studies. I hope things go well. :)

eyeon: This one's for you! Not the best, but I'll do the best ending I can! *wub*

PS: Cut me and I think I'll bleed angst, sadly.

* * *

**Chapter 14**

They trot along the sidewalk, a couple and two children, looking just like one of the typical families that live around the area. They stop at the zebra crossing, and with the older boy holding onto the man's hand, they step onto the road to the other side. At the curb, the man tilts his head back, looking up at the sky. Wisps of cloud are stationary above as though someone has taken a giant paintbrush, swiping through a large spot of cloud across the vast canvas of sky.

_Good weather today._

"What do you like to do, James?"

"Uh," he looks down at the boy beside him. "I like to read."

"Me too." Julian skips a crack on the pavement.

Pause.

"And you?"

"I like to play with my cars, read some...go swimmin'."

"You swim well, Bud?"

"Yep. I have lessons at the pool near the mall. And also gymnastics in the mall." Julian says proudly, "I'm one of the best in class."

"That so?"

"Yup. I been taking classes for a year now." His outer shirt flutters gently in the wind as he increases his pace just a little to keep up. "Wanna see me do a backflip?"

"Not on the pavement, Julian," a voice from the front warns.

Little shoulders droop in disappointment.

"She's just worried you'll fall and break a bone," he drawls.

"Maybe later at the playground," he says hopefully, brightening as he jumps a few times in anticipation. "Do you stay here?"

"No. Home's in LA."

"LA?" He questions, peering up wide-eyed at him. "I stayed there before. We got pictures. Me and my mommy and 'liet. We stayed in an a-part-ment. Jimmy wasn't there yet. I don't remember but 'liet tells me everything about it. Do you know where our old house is?"

"Yeah."

"Did you know my Mommy? Because 'liet said you're an old friend and you live in LA." Julian studies him for a moment. "I think you know her. My mommy is the bestest," He says, partly to himself and partly to James. "But I don't remember anything about her. Only the pictures."

He throws a glance at Juliet, who is just a few steps in front of them, unsure if she's listening to their conversation or not. She walks on, Jimmy in her arms. No sign of her paying any attention to them. But then again, you never know how a woman functions.

"She loved you very much." He isn't sure what made him say that, but he said it anyway. He places his hand lightly on the boy's head, changing the topic. "Nice cap you got there."

"It's my favourite."

"I had one that looks just like it. It was mine too."

By the time they reach the playground, Julian has already enlightened his new friend about his favourite toy, best brand of kid cereal, the cartoons that he watches on Saturday and the meanest teacher in school. Then the boys race to the middle of the deserted playground where multi-coloured slides with bridges, swings and a see-saw lie waiting.

He saunters over to where Juliet stands at the edge of the play area, arms crossed. "Nice day out here."

"Mmhm."

"Great for kite-flyin'."

She glances at him sharply. Clearly she remembers the last time they went flying kites together.

"Anyway, I heard about some concert goin' on. Greg says it's a good band. It's a, uh...some classical pianist on show. Daniel something or other. Have you heard of him?"

"No, not really. Haven't heard of Daniel something or other." He notices a smile tempting her lips and his heart lightens a tad. "You don't like classical music."

"Yeah, well. He's playin' with a rock band. I thought it ought to be interestin'." He shuffles his feet. "Was wonderin' if you wanted to go."

Silence.

"I don't know."

_Which means no._

Disappointment is very much a bitter pill to swallow. He gives a one-shoulder shrug casually. "Alright."

They find seats on a nearby bench, watching the kids go down the slides over and over as the sun plays hide and seek behind the clouds. The leaves above rustle with the passing breeze. Jimmy tries stalking a pigeon near the swings but it flies away when he stomps near and perches on a tree, eyeing the boy evilly. A burst of laughter reaches their ears. Julian grins at the top of the slide at his cousin.

"So," she throws him a question. "How's Miles doing?"

"He's, uh...he's fine. Just got married. On his honeymoon right now."

"Oh. It sounds great."

He nods his head, sliding his hands on his jeans. How is it possible that even until now, they are still behaving like strangers? This was never what he had in mind when he imagined them finally finding each other. It is getting to be even more complicated than he has thought it would be. He needs some professional help in relationship issues, pronto.

"Anyway," he initiates a change in conversation. "I'll be gone next week."

"Going back?"

"To work. It appears there is some trouble that I may have to keep an eye on."

"Don't they have some other person to take care of that?"

What's that in her voice? A trace of annoyance? Good sign, isn't it?

"I don't know. I was told specifically to get my ass back to LA to handle that case."

"Oh."

"That's my duty. A cop's gotta do what a cop's gotta do. But I'll come back soon. You know. See you all." He laces his fingers together, palm against palm, rubs his thumb against each other. "Have you thought it through yet?"

He needn't specify which situation he's referring to, need he?

She is staring at the ground, eyebrows drawn together. No, it ain't looking good.

"Juliet, we gotta work somethin' out."

"I know," she replies in a quiet voice. "I'm just trying to think of the best way to work things out. I don't wish to deprive Jimmy of a father either. Or you of him. You know I honestly didn't mean to. I just...I just want to make things right."

"Then come back."

He hears her inhale deeply, and he knows she is considering. Yet, he is just a step shy of believing she is considering the possibility of beginning a new life with him. If he lets himself believe, and she isn't ready, he will only be setting himself up for a big fall. He will inch forward carefully, cautiously. Everything he does will be a response to how she reacts to his suggestions.

And now, she is hesitating, the thought of uprooting the boys and herself and going back to LA obviously unnerving her.

Jimmy ambles over to the bench and leans on Juliet's legs, angelic face tilted up. "Mommy, thirsty."

She reaches for her bag and fishes out a blue water bottle, turning the cap and letting the toddler suck from the straw.

"He looks like you."

A soft smile is her response to him. With eyes lingering on their son, she says faintly, "They really like you here."

"I like them too. A lot."

That earns him another smile in his direction.

He waits.

As Jimmy runs back to join his cousin, she tightens the cap but doesn't keep the bottle back in the bag, grasping it in her hands instead, rotating it one way, then, the other.

Still he stays silent, watching her. A calm exterior hiding a jittery heart.

She bites her lip. "I know it's a lot to ask from you right now, but can you give me a little time to think this through? Moving back to LA..." She pauses, eyebrows lowering. "I don't know if it's the best idea."

He isn't quite sure how to respond. Is that a no in an indirect way?

"I'm not trying to keep Jimmy from you or anything."

"No. I don't think that."

"That's all I need to know." With a half-smile, she says, "I'm sure the boys will love having you around. They already do now."

"I'll come to see them soon." _And you._

He doesn't say it out loud though.

"Be safe," she says in an almost nondescript tone, but her words betray the concern she feels.

He attempts a lopsided grin. "Always."

* * *

Sunday morning is dark and gloomy. Thankfully, the atmosphere in the house reflects not the weather.

At least, not exactly.

"You mean you let him go _just_ like that?"

"I told him I needed time, Laura. You expect me to just pull Julian out of school, leave his friends behind, move all the way to LA, and tell him it's because James is my ex and this plan allows us to try and function together as a normal family?"

Her friend rolls her eyes in exasperation. "No, of course not, but you didn't even actually give him an answer. How do you think that feels?"

"I said I'd call him."

"That's not an answer."

"Honestly, Laura. Are you on my side or his?"

"I'll like to be known at the neutral party, but really, you know I'm always on your side. I just want to help you solve this."

"We all do, I guess. This is just getting insanely frustrating." She picks up her cup of tea and blows on it. "I'm not sure what to do now. When he was first here, I didn't want him here—"

"Maybe you did but you just didn't want to believe it."

She shakes her head. "But now that he's gone..." She stares at her tea glumly, disturbed by the emotions running amuck.

"Only two possible solutions that I can see. Either you move to LA, but I'll miss you so, so much, or James moves back here. After all, he originated from this very state. I'm sure Greg will be happy to have him here too."

"I'm not sure I'm in the position to ask that of him."

"If you don't ask, you'll never know."

She takes a cautious sip from her tea as she ponders that thought. Too hot. She sets it back down again. "You know that in both cases, it doesn't mean I'm getting back together with him or anything, right? It's 'whatever's best for the kids'."

Laura bobs her head.

She eyes her friend. "Good. I feel like I'm on different sides of the fence. On one hand, it'll be ideal for Julian and Jimmy to have someone to look up to, you know. Father figure. I'm certain he loves them and I believe they really like him." She leans back against the couch and sighs. "I know this makes me sound totally selfish to want him to be with us for that, but right now the kids are my main concern."

"And speaking as a mother's POV myself, I totally understand."

"But on the other hand, I hate to take them from everything that they know and love. Especially Julian. He really loves going to school. He's got great friends, his teachers love him...most of the time when he's not playing tricks on his classmates," she adds wryly. "He's doing well in swimming and gymnastics—"

Laura chokes back a laugh. "They have swimming lessons and gymnastics in LA, you know."

"That's entirely besides the point."

"If you think about it, it's a lot less complicated than it seems to be. If I see it the way you do, it's really no problem. The kids adore him—"

"Of course, they do. You'd think he's a superhero from the way Julian talks about him. And he's nice, he's funny, he spoils them. Just like he spoiled Julian before."

"Guess they won't be having issues with James being a new addition to the family. But seriously, if you _love_ him, and Julian and Jimmy needs a father, why the hesitation?"

Of course, by the time she has gotten the idea to deny that she does love him, it isn't believable anymore. Laura fixes her lovely brown eyes on her, eyebrows raised.

_Don't even think about lying to me, lady._

There goes her failed attempt at denial. She didn't even get to take a stab at it.

"Not trying to make things difficult here," Laura says after swallowing her tea. "On the contrary, I'm attempting to simplify the situation for you."

She acknowledges the words with a sideways tilt of her head. "You did say the situation already is simple and I'm just thinking things are more complicated than they really are."

"Precisely. I'm putting everything back in perspective aka simplifying this so you don't have to go through unnecessary stress trying to make the right decision."

"And what be your opinion, Dr Phil? What would you choose?"

She give a mock contemplative pause before saying, "I'm not sure."

She levels a glare at her friend. "Great help, Laura."

"Well, all I can say is, be truthful. If you don't think a move across the country is the best idea, tell him. He's waiting to hear from you. He needs to know the truth, not what you think he wants to hear. Be honest."

"Sometimes I feel like I owe him for taking Jimmy without telling him."

"I'm guessing he didn't say that."

"No, he didn't. Must be the guilt finally pushing through," she murmurs.

"Guilt should never play a part in your decisions, Juliet." Hazel eyes stare back at her, comforting, understanding. "Call him. Tell him how you really feel. That's the best you can do."

* * *

"Please tell me this is a really late April Fool's joke."

"I'm not kidding, Miles."

His partner turns his head, narrowing his eyes. He stares back with utmost seriousness, not the slightest glint of mischief in his eyes. The look on Miles's face changes from scrutiny to one of disbelief and to some extent, shock.

"I saw her," he repeats, each word clearly enunciated. "I ain't jokin', Miles. If there's one thing I'll never kid about, it's her."

"Damn right," Miles exclaims. "Can't believe I missed it!"

"You were honeymoonin' with the love of your life, if you recall."

"Which is unforgettable, but now..." In one roll, he slides over on his office chair to James's cubicle. "Beginning to end, partner. No skipping anything."

"It's complicated."

"Bullshit. Where's she?"

He shrugs. "In Tennessee."

"I know. I meant, why isn't she back here with you? Hooked up with another man?"

He shoots Miles a drop-dead glare, who backs off a bit, hands raised.

"Chill."

At this moment, Ana Lucia passes by, arching a brow at the pair who apparently seems to be slacking during office hours. Miles widen his eyes and sends a nonchalant smile her way. The female officer rolls her eyes and disappears around the corner sans her usual cutting remarks.

"Coast clear. Now speak before she returns."

To his perturbation, he realizes he doesn't know what to say.

Where does he start? How does he start? Simple words will never be sufficient to relate the experience he had with her. The rapid quickening of his heart when he saw her, the inaudible sigh that escaped then, a sudden peace that encompassed him, like his world was finally right again. How very often he found it so hard to tear his eyes away from her just because he was afraid that she might disappear again. How one kiss brought back a flood of emotions, long-forgotten memories crashing through his mind.

She must know he loves her. He has made it exceptionally clear to her. But her. What about her?

"James?"

His eyes meet Miles's. Concern looks back at him. He smiles. "I'm okay." He shifts on his chair. "So, I left for Tennessee. Got a call from my cousin to stay with him and the family, and he insisted, so I went. And, uh, they told me there were gonna be a couple of guests for dinner that day, so later, when I walked out of the room...I saw her. Like I thought I was going crazy seein' her sittin' on the couch."

"Go on."

"She works for my cousin, Miles. I mean, what are the chances of that?"

"Near zilch, I think. But if you want to be precise, I'll have to google the population in Tennessee before I can tell you."

"Yeah, well...she couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe it. And I stood there like a dumb ass."

"I feel like I'm listening to something from a script."

"And Julian, her nephew? He's such a charmer. Big boy now." He chuckles, before falling to silence again. "And there was uh, another boy with her. About two years old." He breathes deeply. "He's mine," he states almost sheepishly.

Miles stares.

"Jimmy," he continues. "She calls him Jimmy."

Still a blank stare.

"Miles?"

"First you tell me you found Juliet after a little over two unsuccessful years of searching, in your cousin's place out of all the houses in USA. Now you're telling me you have a son?"

"You know, this is quite similar to how I reacted."

"You have a son and she didn't tell you?"

His heart sinks a little at the reminder. "Yeah. But she's real sorry about that. I know it still doesn't make it right, she knows it. But what's done is done. It's a whole lot more complicated than that. She had her reasons."

"You're obviously standing up for her."

A wry grin spreads across his face. No use denying it. But when a sudden thought slips into his mind, the grin dissipates, his features turn grim. "Have you heard of this man, Edmund Burke, by the way?"

Miles draws his brows together, then, slowly shakes his head. "No. Why?"

"Never mind."

"Criminal record?"

"I'm not sure. Forget I asked." He waves his hand.

A few seconds later, Miles leans forward. "So, this Jimmy. He looks like you? Cheeky smile and evil eyes and all?"

"He's beautiful. Kinda like me and Juliet."

"More Juliet I'm sure." Miles chuckles. "So I suppose she'll be coming back?"

_Oh. _"She's thinkin' about it."

"Thinking about it..."

"She'll make the right decision, Miles."

"She may take years just thinking about it."

"She ain't gonna take years to get back to me, Miles. She'll call me."

"Huh. Well, here's some good news for you. Know that special case that cut short your vacation and nearly my honeymoon?"

"What about it?"

"It's in Dallas. Pretty near Tennessee if you ask me. If you can drive for about 10 hours, you can actually get to see her before we get another case."

"Dallas?" He wrinkles his forehead. "What kind of case takes us all the way to Dallas?"

"The kind everyone wants to get. It's a hush-hush thing. Plenty of danger involved in this one. I hear only the best cops get a part of it. I know it's vague but once the man upstairs briefs you, you'll get a better idea." Miles reaches for a small packet of peanuts lying on the table and ripping it open, he pops one into his mouth, crunching loudly. "Meeting an ex on your vacation halfway across the country and now getting a case situated near there. Must be fate."


	15. Chapter 15

The quickest update ever in my life! Thanks for reviewing! I believe you guys want some James/Jimmy scene. Let's see where I can fit them in. ;)

eyeon: What's HER problem? :(

Aww: I've got a similar idea too!

tia: I'd say Jimmy is a couple of months shy of two. I actually tried calculating. Lol.

Kaylost: Thanks for reviewing Whenever You Remember. I still hope I'll be able to finish it!

* * *

**Chapter 15**

They speed along the long stretch of road on the second lane. Trees and occasional shrubs whizz past in a blur behind an old metal railing. Some obscure country song chosen by the radio station plays from the speakers. In the passenger seat, Miles taps his foot to the groovy beat on the black rubber mat lying on the car floor.

"You like the song," he remarks, not taking his eyes off the road.

"Not really. My foot tends to tap to whatever beat's playing on the radio."

"It's a horrible song with a horrible singer."

"Won't argue with you there."

"That means we can change the station then." He turns on the signal to switch lanes and after a quick look at the side mirror, he quickly maneuvers the vehicle to the right. "Or just turn it off. I'm not in the mood to enjoy music right now."

"Nervous?"

"Damn right."

"Maybe we should've just rejected the case."

"Rejection is for sissies."

Miles shrugs and twists his head to look out the window.

"We'll be fine," he mutters. A blue Ford car with its driver falls behind as he applies pressure on the pedal. The needle on the speedometer inches past the markings.

"Watch the speed," Miles mumbles. "We'll be there early to meet up with Cedric. At the rate you're driving, we may be there before he is. Or we won't make it there at all. They'll find our bodies in a car crash a couple of metres from here."

He grunts in reply, but eases up a little.

"Imagine the irony if we get issued a ticket by a cop."

"I'm not even past the speed limit." He glances at the sign by the side of the road. Less than two miles till they will be at their destination. According to the report given to them, they will be lodging at a grand hotel until, of course, it is time for him to assume a false identity temporarily just to slip into the circle of trust and gain the essential information.

He will be a mole in a drug ring. Apparently, the biggest one yet. His hands are actually dampening on the wheel as the thought runs through his mind. It will not be the first for him, being undercover, but it never fails to put his nerves on edge. Who knows what kind of stress this sort of mission puts on his heart. It must shorten his life by a few days, if not years.

"James?"

"What?"

"I think you missed the turning."

_Shit._

He does a U-turn at the next crossroads that will lead them back to the right track. There is silence in the car for the next few minutes. Either Miles is tired of trying to put him in a better mood, or else he himself is getting affected by James's negative mood.

Perhaps negative is the wrong word to use. He's just not feeling in the best of moods at the moment.

A colossal building of many storeys rises just before him, its surface reflecting the glare of the sunlight. It looks just like the one in the picture printed in the report they emailed to him. He angles the car towards the entrance that will take them to the underground parking lot.

He takes one of the empty lots on the floor labelled B2 and presses the button to lock the car. Walking up the concrete steps, they stride to the cream-coloured door, pulling it open. A blast of cool air-conditioning greets them. He walks forward and jabs the elevator button indicating UP.

"We didn't even get a hotel like this during our honeymoon," Miles comments, staring upwards, arms on his hips. Bright orange lights emit from circles in the ceiling with glass covering, creating a kind of warm glow from above.

"This sort of place is only meant for the rich, Miles. Not common folk like us."

Miles looks his way. "Thanks a lot."

"I speak it the way I see it," he says with a fleeting grin.

The elevator doors open, revealing a spotless mirror with their reflections looking back at them. They step in and he taps the card against the sensor. The square button numbered twenty-three lights up and the doors slide shut in one swift motion. According to instructions given, without the card AKA the key, you can only gain access to the basements and the lobby. How technology has advanced. This must be some posh hotel.

Miles leans back in a corner, hands on the gold iron handrails. "Filthy rich people, I say."

"Weird place to meet our contact, I say."

"Why not? Security is tight. I bet they've even got bulletproof windows." As James raises his brows, he shrugs. "Just making a guess."

"This ain't some CIA headquarters, Miles. Just a pretty hotel with up-to-date technology."

The elevator dings and with a quiet swoosh, the doors part. They step out onto carpeted ground, red with gold and sapphire flecks, making muffled clomps as they wander along the corridor. He notices the same overhead lighting system is used.

Miles leads the way, turning to the left after a quick glance at the gold-plated sign on the wall. "Room 842 this way."

James follows, giving a cursory glance at the housekeeper that passes by, and nods when she smiles.

"Well," Miles stops at one of the many white doors on the right. A similar gold-plated sign on the side of the wall with the number 842 printed on it clearly shows that they are at the right door. "Here we are." He touches the card to the lock and a beep sounds. With a backwards glance at James, he pushes down the handle and opens the door.

Cedric sits on a hard-backed chair by the round coffee table, one leg crossed over the other, one hand on the table. His hair is a dark shade of brown, cropped close to the head. A sharp nose, square jaw, busy eyebrows. Dressed smartly in a business suit, looking just like one of the men who'll choose this hotel to house them while they negotiate contracts for their company.

Definitely doesn't look like a Cedric, he thinks.

"Nice day," Cedric speaks.

Typical male voice. Not exceptionally deep.

"So they said."

A hint of a smile tugs at the man's lips. He stands from the chair. He's about James's height, give or take an inch or two.

James steps forward and takes the man's hand. "James Ford."

"Pleased to meet you, James. And Miles. Have a seat."

They gather around the coffee table, noting that the glass door that separates the balcony from the room is covered by the drapes.

"We can't stay for long. I'm only to pass you what you need, tell you how to contact us and the address of where you have to go to meet our target." Cedric yanks a black bag from the ground by his chair and slides it across the table to him. "In there you'll find some suitable clothes, a phone with a tracking device. Whatever calls you make will be recorded. You'll be asked not to use your personal devices once you go undercover. There's also an ASP pistol, serial number 2315. I believe you've been briefed before this meeting. Any questions?"

James exchange glances with Miles. His partner gives a slight shake of his head."

"So you'll be staying at Christchurch Street in a small apartment. It's a rather run-down building and you probably won't be able to return there very often. Miles here will be a neighbour. He has supposedly just lost his job, so technically, right now he's bumming around, but he'll be helping keep track of your whereabouts. Whatever we need to tell you will go through him. We are not expecting any slipups."

He tilts his head. "I hear there will be others."

"You won't know who each other are. Less at stake and safer for everyone if one gets discovered."

With that said, and the matter settled, Cedric leaves with a warning to them not to linger too long in the hotel.

"A bum, huh," Miles remarks.

"It's just for cover."

"At least I get to retain some semblance of a normal life even under cover."

"You bum around back in LA?"

"No, but I still get to watch tv and surf the net. Can't say you've got time for that."

"Thanks a lot, Miles," he mutters as he pushes up himself from the chair. "Come on. We better be off."

* * *

The smell of roasting chicken wafts out from the oven and she peers in at it. It should be ready within a couple of minutes. She opens a drawer and draws out a pair of gloves, setting them on the table. A steady thumping reverberates through the house.

"Julian!" She yells from the kitchen. "Are you doing your schoolwork?"

The thumping stops abruptly. "Yes!"

She shakes her head and sighs, getting ready to head into the room to check on her nephew. Jimmy sits by the couch, scribbling on a piece of paper. She hopes he doesn't decide to attempt drawing on the floor. On the way to the boys' room, the phone rings, causing her to make a detour.

She picks it up. "Hello?"

"Hey."

Her heart skips a beat. James. He left only last week.

"How's it goin'?"

_How's it goin'? What's the best answer for that?_ "Uh...it's good. They miss you." _So do I._ "They talk about you every day." She can almost hear him smile over the phone.

"I've only been with them for a couple of days."

"I know. Guess you really made an impression. They hope you come again soon."

"Well, tell 'em I'll see them soon. I'm in Dallas."

_Dallas?_ She wrinkles her forehead. "I thought you went back to LA."

"They sent me to Dallas with Miles for some work. Miles says hi, by the way. He'd come tell you himself but he didn't want to invade my privacy, I guess. He's lurking by the vending machine, looking over here right now."

"Tell him congratulations on my behalf. I'm sorry I didn't get to attend his wedding."

He relays her message and over the phone, she hears an indistinct reply.

"What did he say?"

"Uh," James pauses. "He said he hopes to attend our wedding."

_Oh._

"He's just foolin' around."

"It's fine." _No, it's not really, is it?_ "When will you be coming?"

"Probably sometime after the 23rd. It's vague but it's the best I can do. Gives me ample time to wrap up this case. Shouldn't take more than a month really. I'll give you a call before I drive down."

She leans against the wall. "Sounds great."

"Well, I gotta go. I'll call you again. If you need to reach me, don't call this number. Get Miles. 81542108," he recites from memory. Then he pauses. "I love you, Juliet."

_I love you too._ But it is not time to say it yet. She is not ready. She swallows. "Goodnight, James."

She puts down the phone and shuts her eyes against the swirling emotions churning inside her. Why didn't she tell him she loves him? Why wasn't there even a 'take care' or 'be safe' before she hung up? Mentally yelling at herself and more than just a little upset, she turns around to return to the kitchen and spots Julian perched on a stool.

Now when did that boy get in the kitchen?

"What's that you're eating, Julian?"

"Biscuits and milk," he replies nonchalantly as Juliet comes his way. In the kitchen, she notices Jimmy standing right beside the older boy's chair, one hand gripping the stool. When did _he_ get there?

"I want too," Jimmy pipes up. As she gets to the table, her son releases his grip on the stool and hugs her leg. "Biscuit."

One look at the table confirms her suspicions. Just as she has expected. Biscuits and condensed milk.

She never understood who taught him how to eat his biscuits that way or if he decided one day that biscuits taste nice with condensed milk. Whatever it was, it has become his favourite snack. He'll choose those over chocolate chip cookies any day.

"What have I said about snacks before dinner?"

Julian's lower lip juts out, but obediently, he caps the lid of the biscuit container and climbs off the stool to wash his hands.

Before he trudges off back to his room, she asks, "And have you finished your work, young man?"

"Almost." Blue eyes gaze into hers. Wide. "Just a little bit left."

Half-truth. She can always tell. "A little?"

"I was hungry."

_Give him a break._ She exhales and studies her nephew who gazes back with sad eyes. _Oh fine._ She smiles in mock exasperation. "Set the table for me, will you? Dinner's almost done."

* * *

A tall Caucasian man with handsome features sits in a dark corner of a diner. He is dressed in an old ripped pair of jeans, a gray shirt and a black jacket on his back. Together with a Chinese man in equally shabby clothes, he shoves food into his mouth. A late dinner. More like supper really. They appear to be discussing some important issue, but who knows what it may be? Many strange and most likely illegal goings-on happen around here.

Nobody gives them a second look. The poor is abundant in this area. Turn a corner and see a bum lazing by the sidewalk, waiting for a handout. Or maybe a drunk stumbling along the street, yelling obscenities at the nearest passer-by.

The Asian man turns his head occasionally to look at the people through the dirty window. He is either waiting for someone or is intrigued by the bountiful number of drug addicts littering the street.

"Stop looking, Eric."

"I'm just learning how the drug addicts here behave. If anyone comes to find me, I'll put on a good show."

The blonde flips him the finger. "Drug addicts are the same everywhere."

"Whatever, _Sawyer_."

"You know I'm always right."

"What kind of dude came up with Sawyer anyway? What does he think this is? The adventures of Tom Sawyer? And what's with that finger? If only Juliet gets to see you now."

James narrows his eyes, hissing, "Don't mention her name."

Of course, all the extreme and crude action before was only for show, but that last one took less effort.

"Chill pill, buddy. Won't happen again."

The tightness in his chest loosens and he breathes just a little easier. It's always hard before the big day.

Miles is looking at him, trying not to seem too obvious, but there is a glimpse of worry in his eyes.

He drops his eyes onto the nearly-empty plate, not wishing to see. "I'll be fine," he mutters.

And that is it. They finish their meals in silence. James pulls out his wallet and tosses two crumpled notes on the table. It is time to return to their dilapidated building with vandalism and cracked walls. What a major difference it is from the hotel they visited this morning.

Just one of the drawbacks of working undercover.

He will return to his one-room apartment and try to relax on the uncomfortable sofa with cotton peeking out of the holes.

He will try not to think about what Juliet and the boys are doing now.

He will try to focus on his mission.

And he will wait for midnight to come.

* * *

_The soothing voice of Michael Buble washes over them as they snuggle on the couch one cool night. The clock shows 11.30PM. And it is silent outside but for the wind coursing through the trees._

"_Julian told me what he wanted for his Christmas present." _

"_It's too early for Christmas."_

_He gives a low chuckle. "Doesn't matter. He said he wants a hamster."_

"_Don't have time to care for a hamster, James."_

"_Why not?"_

"_Work, and Julian and Rachel..."_

"_I'll take care of the hamster...and you and Rachel and Julian if you let me."_

_She pulls away, the expression on her face caught between uncertainty and bewilderment. It amuses him, thinking how flustered she appears to be at even the slightest mention of getting married. No, it is not worrying because now he knows she loves him._

_She brushes her hand over her lower stomach area, avoiding his gaze now. _

_He frowns, noting how her face is unusually flushed. "You feelin' okay?"_

_She nods once. "Just been having late nights. Work's been tough."_

_Then she leans in, resting her head on his chest with a sigh. He presses his cheek against her hair, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo._

"_I love you, James."_

_A soft smile steals over his lips. "I love you too."_

* * *

Eyes snap open.

A dirty-white ceiling with peeling paint.

Only a second. It takes only a second for the fuzz in his mind to clear, for him to realize where he is and what he's doing here. His gaze shoots to the small red round alarm clock on the table.

Hands reach 12 precisely.

It is time.


	16. Chapter 16

I hope you all like this chapter. Please let me know if you like it...or don't like it. :o

Flying off next week on Friday! I may end in one chapter!

* * *

**Chapter 16**

The days fly by, one by one, packed with the usual workload and constant worries mostly centred on the boys. Once in a while, James calls. Not very often, but whenever he does, all the faces in the household are wreathed in smiles and a flood of relief never fails to spread through her body. There is no knowing when he'll give them a ring, but just knowing that he is all right and that he still cares enough to call warms her heart. 6 consecutive days of not hearing from him is enough to drive her mad with worry. Then one night, she finds Julian on the phone. His downcast voice catches her attention as she is coming into the house after work.

"You promised to make a treehouse with me, 'member?" He sits on the couch, swinging his legs as his face falls. "Okay. I don't fight in school anymore, but sometimes he takes my things without asking. The teacher makes him give it back." He glances at Juliet who now stands before him. "Okay. I will. When—" A frown appears on his face. "'lo?"

"Is that James?"

He nods. "He wanted to talk to you, but I said you wasn't home just now. He hanged up." He leans over and puts the phone back to its original position before heading back to his room.

She stands in the middle of the room, feeling a mixture of exasperation, irritation and disappointment.

_Damn. Why didn't he wait to talk with her?_

* * *

Since four weeks back, his life has undergone a drastic change. Even that seems like an understatement. Now he lives in the dark, when the sun sets, a man with a new identity. One intent on mingling with the rich and powerful in the drug business, the men who can afford to own limousines, and apparently, he is hoping to be one of them sometime in the future. That's what he is made to do. When morning comes, weary and worn-out, he returns to his hellhole for a fitful sleep, plagued with dreams of running, forever running. From what? Something dark, something that is determined to snuff his life out. But that is not enough. It wants not only him. It wants him and everyone he loves.

So he hates this place. He hates this new life. He hates the man he is required to be, even if it's only for the time being. It has only been 4 weeks, but already it feels like a lifetime.

A couple of days ago, he heard of the rumours circulating, saying that he may be taken in to be trained. Whatever that means. All he knows is that the closer he gets to the higher-ups, the closer he gets to obtaining the names of those involved in this drug ring. One step at a time. Every step brings him closer to his goal. Every step brings him to the end of this nightmare.

He has done well so far, and apparently, through his loyal comrade Miles Straume, so do the other agents in the force. With any luck, it will continue to be so until the end of his mission.

He lies on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The heavy drapes, dusty from months of not being disturbed, are drawn shut. They are always shut, as far back as he can remember. It seems like years ago. But yes, they are pulled across the windows to block out the sun. The bright sunlight that now hurts his eyes.

So again, in the dark, the unforgettable image of the man he met earlier emerges. Eyebrows low over his eyes, which gleam a cold steely blue. His nose is slightly crooked, as though it has been broken before. Most probably in a fight. He is not much taller or bigger-sized than many of the bodyguards that are scattered in the building, but the aura that surrounds him is terrifying.

_Like the kind of man who will shoot a child in the head without a moment's hesitation and still have the mood to go for a drink later._

He turns on his side and shuts his eyes, desperate for sleep to come, but the image stays, like remnants of a nightmare.

He caught the man's eyes just standing by the door. That time, he felt a shiver running down his spine, though he had the sense not to let it show on his face. At that instant, the thought that man is immediately distrustful of him raced through his mind. And that man _knew_. It took all his willpower not to dart out of the room back home.

No hard evidence. Just vibes. Vibes that have saved his skin plenty of times in this field.

This man no doubt will be his greatest source of trouble.

He lets out a sigh. Sleep will evade him for today. Releasing a grunt of utter disgust, he rolls across the bed, which is really just a bare mattress on a wooden bed frame, and sits up. Reaching for the phone given to him, he flips it open, wishing very much to be able to call her.

But he can't.

Sometimes he manages to find an abandoned public phone to use, but not for a while now. He hasn't been contacting her for more than a week, counting today. He is very much aware of the eyes trained on him. Wherever he goes, they are there, studying his every move.

He lowers himself to the cold ground and proceeds to do push ups, not bothering to keep count, until he feels the perspiration rolling down his face and on his back. When his muscles are about to give out, he drops to the ground, face up, breathing heavily.

_Just a little while more, Juliet. Just wait for me a little while more. Then I'll be home with you and Julian...and our son._

* * *

It is unusually quiet at dinner tonight. She is not used to such silence. Her gaze flits from her nephew, who is finishing his food, strangely enough, to her son, who is _not_ finishing his food.

"Jimmy, eat your dinner."

"Not hungry."

Julian forks the last bite into his mouth and sets the silver cutlery down. "I'm done."

"Plate in the sink," she says as always because he normally forgets to do so.

He hops off his chair and carries his plate to the sink without a word.

Her eyes follow his little figure across the kitchen.

"Are you feeling sick, Julian?"

"No."

"Did something happen in school?"

He looks back at her. "No."

Then what is wrong with him? This new behaviour of his is worrying. Case of the blues? Maybe she should try a different tactic.

"Tomorrow's Saturday. Why not we go shopping? We need to get you a new pair of jeans. I think the one you have is getting too small." She grins at him. "Maybe we'll even get that plane you saw on display the other day."

Expecting him to brighten in excitement, she is taken aback when he shakes his head.

"You don't want to go out?"

"No." He hesitates, then, proceeds to say, "James said he'd go with me to buy the plane. I want to wait for him."

For a moment, she does not know how to respond. She forces a smile. "How about a movie? We'll go to the movies tomorrow."

Negative.

"Swimming? Do you want to go swimming tomorrow?"

"I want," Jimmy interjects, looking at her before returning to flattening the mashed potatoes with his spoon.

Julian thinks, then, shrugs noncommittally. "Okay." Then he turns on his heels and disappears around the corner.

Her smile vanishes, replaced by a worried frown. Maybe she made a mistake by allowing James back into their lives without first ensuring he will be around to stay. James's disappearance has clearly affected Julian in more ways than she has imagined.

Hopefully he will call soon. That will no doubt lift everyone's spirits.

This thought lingers no more than a second when right then, her cell phone rings. She pushes her chair back with another reminder for Jimmy to finish his dinner before making her way to the living room. Digging into the designer handbag given to her by Laura, she pushes her wallet aside before grasping the phone in her hand.

"Hello?"

"Juliet Burke?" A man answers briskly.

"Speaking." She frowns, unable to recognize the caller.

"I believe you know James Ford?"

Her heart skips a beat. "Yes."

"Pleasure to meet you. I work with James. I suppose he has informed you that he is working on a case concerning a drug ring."

A pause. She gets a sinking feeling in her stomach.

"He hasn't gotten back to us since Tuesday."

_That's two days ago._ The fear starts from her heart and spreads throughout her body, paralysing her.

"The partner assigned to him has lost all contact with him. We have come to know he still maintains contact with you. Do you happen to recall anything he said lately that is connected to the case? Or anything out of the ordinary that may somehow be clues to his whereabouts?"

He may as well be speaking Greek because she can scarcely comprehend what he is asking. The words barely penetrate the wall of panic that surrounds her mind. Panic that threatens to overwhelm, choking her. And then thoughts of every single possibility of what may have happened flood her mind.

What if they realized who he is? What if he has been shot and is lying bleeding to death out there in a dark hole? What if he is held captive, forced to undergo torture?

Her heart feels as though it has been enclosed in ice. She hears her name being spoken, calling her with a level of urgency, back from the dark tunnel where fear has her in a tight grip. With much effort, she pushes back the thoughts that are swarming her. "I'm here," she manages.

"Do you remember?"

"No." She shakes her head. Even if he did say something strange, she honestly cannot recall it now. "I'm sorry. He may have, but I can't think of..." There is a catch in her voice. She swallows. "No, I can't remember."

"Well, we'd really like to know if you do remember. It is our top priority to ensure our agent is safe and also to make sure our position has not been compromised."

Meaning he hasn't given away any of their secrets.

"He wouldn't do that," she says, disturbed by the very thought.

"No offense. Just a precaution we need to take. In any case, we would really like your help in this. One of my colleagues will be down to Cleveland, Mississippi tomorrow and if you can make it down, we'd be most appreciative."

_You need to go. _

"But only if it's not inconvenient—"

"Tomorrow," she interrupts. "Where?"

"Red Moss. It's a little ways from the city." He relates the directions to her, making sure she understands clearly. "He'll be there waiting and will bring you to our headquarters once you get there. What time is best for you?"

She roughly calculates the time she'll require to drive down. Glances at the clock. 9PM now. Too late to book a place on a plane. Chances are the seats are fully booked. But she can drive. "7 or 8 should be fine."

"Will do."

"I need a number...to call."

There is a pause. Then he says, "I'll contact you if there is a need to."

A dial tone sounds in her ear. She pulls her phone away and stares at the screen. She presses the call button.

Number unknown.

Of course.

There is a throbbing at the back of her head, the starting of a headache. She drops onto the couch, legs wobbly, and squeezes her eyes shut. Voices poke and prod her with their accusations and suggestions of what may have befallen upon James, guilt that digs in with its iron claws, fear that wraps icy hands around her heart.

Oh, God. She never even told him she loved him.

A missed opportunity. No. Not one, but many times.

Hot tears begin to prick the back of her eyes. She bows her head, taking a deep breath. Calm. She needs to stay calm. She will have a long drive tonight.

But first, the kids.

With long strides, she walks into the room straight to the wardrobe and pulls out a duffel bag from the top, big enough to hold a day or two's change of clothing for Julian and Jimmy. She starts to pack the clothes in. Julian, curious, leaves his book and wanders near her.

After observing for some seconds, he looks at her with a baffled expression. "'liet?"

"You're going to Uncle Greg's tonight. Whatever you want to take, please do it now."

He does not move.

A little annoyed, she repeats herself. "Julian, please start packing whatever you want to take now."

And what happens next takes her by surprise.

Tears start to pool in the little boy's eyes. His lips tremble. "I'll go."

_What?_

"I'll go shopping tomorrow. We can buy the plane." A big fat tear teeters at the edge and then rolls down his cheek. "And go to the movies too. We don't have to wait for James. Don't send me away." His voice starts to shake. "Don't leave me alone, 'liet. Don't go. I promise I'll listen to you." The last word turns into a wail and he launches himself at her, wrapping his arms around her neck, blubbering.

As she holds him, crying uncontrollably in her arms, she realizes what she did, and what her actions said to him. She could've slapped herself in the face. He must have thought she's sending him away for good because he didn't want to go out shopping.

Jimmy, who has been standing at the doorway, watches Julian wail like there's no tomorrow in Juliet's embrace. His little face scrunches up and Juliet knows she will have another screaming child on her hands. As he bursts into tears, she picks Julian up and bends over for her distraught son, making shushing noises all the way.

By the time she gets to the living room, Julian's wails have subsided to mere sobs, but still he doesn't release his grip on her. Jimmy, merely copying his cousin, stops his tears. She drops onto the couch, arms still tight around her neck. "It's okay, baby. I'm here. It's gonna be all right," she coaxes. "I'm not going to leave anyone, okay?"

Julian rests his head on her shoulder, face wet. She strokes his hair from his forehead, feeling sorry for causing such a tremendous mistake. But at the back of her mind, a voice nags at her, reminding her that while she sits at home, James's life is at stake.

"Don't go 'way and leave me behind, Mommy," Julian cries.

She freezes. The word echoes in her mind, stealing her breath.

_Don't go 'way and leave me behind, Mommy._

Her own vision starts to cloud. She blinks furiously, trying to clear the tears that formed out of nowhere. Did she hear him wrongly? No, she is sure she didn't. He called her Mommy.

"Don't leave me."

She attempts to pat his back. "I won't."

Leaning on her other side, Jimmy hiccups, then, promptly sticks his thumb in his mouth.

Her thoughts are in a jumble. Did Julian just call her Mommy? Is he just confused? James. She needs to go now. But wait, first the kids. She needs to leave them in a safe place. She can't possibly take them along with her.

Can she?

No, of course she can't! She needs to leave them with Greg and Laura. That's the best way.

She takes a moment to think, wondering how to phrase her sentences the right way so she wouldn't set them off again.

"Julian?" She sits him up, looking at him carefully. Then she touches his face, wiping his tears. "I'm not going to leave you. I won't _ever_ leave you, understand?"

He nods.

"James is lost...and I need to find him. That's why I have to take you and Jimmy to Uncle Greg's for a while."

"Can't you bring us?" He sniffles.

"No, sweetheart. Not this time. But I'll be back soon. I need you to take care of Jimmy for me while I'm gone, alright?"

"You'll come back?"

"I promise, sweetheart. I will."

Less than an hour later, she has the boys at the Harris's place, having informed Greg and Laura beforehand. She plants kisses on their sleepy heads and sends them in with Greg.

Before she leaves, Laura pulls her in for a hug. "Stay safe."

"I will. Take care of them for me," she whispers.

In the car, the tears leak from the corners of her eyes down her cheeks. She wipes them away with her hand before placing it back on the wheel, but they keep coming. Why do they keep coming?

_Stay strong, Juliet. You need to stay strong. For Julian. For Jimmy._

_For James._

_For Rachel. Even for Rachel._

Rachel would know exactly what to do.

_But she's gone. She's gone and never coming back. _

She can hear the indistinct sounds of weeping in her head. And agonized cries. Her breath catches in her throat.

"_Juliet."_

"_Don't leave me alone! Don't go."_

"_She's gone, Juliet."_

"_I'm sorry. Don't leave me here, Rachel!"_

_A hand grabs hold of her before she falls. Grief blinds her, twisting her heart such that intense pain shoots through her whole body. A guttural scream emerges from the depth of anguish that plagues her. She gasps for air, gasping but never breathing._

_Oh. God._

_She's gone and never coming back._

Like a huge wave about to crash onto shore, the memory threatens to overwhelm her. She pulls over to the road shoulder before all control is lost and hunched over the wheel, she shakes helplessly with sobs, tears running down her face, down her chin, endlessly flowing. Like the pain. Never ending. She squeezes the steering wheel in her hands, knuckles whitening with the strength of her grip as another memory flashes through her mind.

"_You actually believed I could help Rachel? When will you ever learn, Juliet?" A mocking laugh burns her ears. "You poor, naive soul."_

The shame and humiliation return with a fury. She chokes on her tears. The weeping has faded and is replaced by taunting words that sound all too familiar.

She covers her ears, trying to shield herself from the memory of the raucous laughter. "Stop, please. Stop it," she whispers repeatedly, voice barely audible.

_Let it go, Juliet. It was never your fault. _

She crumples in her seat, still shaking.

_She died because the cancer ate her up inside. Nobody could've saved her. Edmund never had the intention or the ability to cure her. What he did was totally wrong and he violated you. Stop letting this hold you back. None of it happened because you wanted it to, Juliet. _

She quietens down.

_Let it go._

She let go.

* * *

Pain is the burning wound in his leg. Pain is the darkness creeping at the edges of his vision. Pain is the bleeding injuries they inflicted on his face.

Pain encompasses him. Yet he is most aware that he has to get to her before they did.

But the darkness is insistent and even while protesting, it swallows him up whole.


	17. Chapter 17

Well. This is it! The last chapter of this fic that I have had a great time writing. I appreciate all of you readers and reviewers. Thank you for your interest in this story and for putting up with my inconsistent updates! I'd also like to thank Eyeon for getting me to finish this fic, because if it wasn't for her, I wouldn't have had done up this chapter. Eyeon, you're the best reviewer I've ever gotten. I'm waiting for your cookies...or the ham! Lol.

(I feel like I'm giving a speech. Must be the Suliet and Juliet themes playing that's making me emotional and long-winded.) Anyway, Suliet is a great ship, no doubt, and I love them, but I'm sure all of you know that Juliet will always be my favourite character. This one's for her.

* * *

**Chapter 17**

_Cold air drifts over him. There are goose bumps rising up on his skin. A thin film of perspiration covers his forehead. It is dark. He cannot see. Panic clutches him in a slowly tightening grip. He can only feel. He starts to speak when a sudden crushing blow of despair slams into him so hard that he literally feels it like a kick to his chest. _

"_Don't you leave me!"_

_It is his voice, coated so thickly with anguish that he almost does not recognize it. It is the voice of a man in desperation, on the brink of losing everything dear to him. It robs him of his breath. He fights to suck in the freezing air into his lungs._

"_No, you don't let go!"_

_He doesn't question why he is screaming. He only knows he is. His eyes burn and he lets the tears flow without reserve. And it comes again._

"_Don't let go!"_

_Unbearable pain courses through him like a current. He shudders and emits a low moan, wishing it will just stop._

_A flash of blue. His heart twists within his chest. He gasps. _

_Those eyes. He knows those eyes. _

"_No! No, don't let go!"_

_At that instant, he sees. He hears his own voice, hoarse and broken, screaming her name. _

_And unimaginable terror rips through him._

_

* * *

_

"Come on," she mumbles to herself. "Answer the call."

No one does. She dumps the phone back onto the seat with a scowl. Not a single attempt has gotten through and all it does is aggravate her frustration and worry.

There is barely anyone up at such an unearthly hour. The town is almost dead, she thinks. Endless rows of trees sweep past her on both sides. She hasn't taken a break since two hours ago, the only rest time she has taken on her entire journey. Her hands are starting to feel like they've been glued to the wheel. She releases a hand to run it through her hair. A perplexed frown steals over her face as she peers at the road ahead of her. Has she lost her way again?

The buildings have vanished sometime back during the journey. This coupled with no signs around to guide her way brings about a sharp jab of edginess in her side. The relentless thought that time is running out nibbles at the edge of her mind, like an irritating pest that she cannot quite chase away. She pushes her hair back in a motion of frustration. Driving along under the canopy of stars, she considers turning back to the highway. But not a second later after that thought, she spots a clump of buildings in the distance. In the dark, they do not look particularly awe-inspiring, merely buildings of dull colours, about four or five storeys high. There is one with the front lights left on, as if to attract weary travellers to rest in their abode. As she draws nearer, a tired smile crosses her face.

She has found it.

Red Moss looks more like a large house that serves as a motel. Creepers extend from the ground up the walls, dark green on red brick. White curtains peek out by the windows with blue frames in the walls. Stone steps lead up to double doors that will no doubt open up to the lobby. A large oak tree with a twisted trunk greets her just as she turns into the parking lot. It appears to be deserted but for one lone truck situated at the end lot.

Red Moss is apparently just a motel that chose to be unfortunately located at a bad spot of the town.

She gets out of the car, grateful for the chance to finally stretch her legs after hours of driving. Her muscles were starting to cramp up permanently. She reaches for the green sling backpack in the back, which is all that she brought along with her. Crickets, hidden in the bushes, chirp loudly as she makes her way to the entrance, shoes crunching on the gravel.

Wooden doors with glass panels lead to the lobby. A large red mat before them reads 'Welcome'. She steps onto it, taking a deep breath before pushing one of the doors open.

A middle-aged man sits behind the desk that is mostly bare except for an open book with lines, probably for guests to sign in. There is no sign of a computer or such, which is most surprising. She approaches the desk, making the observation that the man is dressed in dark blue jeans and a black T-shirt. She wonders for a split second why he isn't in a suit. But then again, this is not some posh hotel in a busy city. Red Moss is most definitely a motel that does not boast of fine looks.

The man offers her a wan smile. "Lookin' for a room, lady?"

"Yeah, just for the night." She briefly considers telling him that she's meeting someone here, but decides he will most likely get the wrong impression if she does so. "I'm not sure if there's a reservation for me. Do you mind checking?" _Checking the book, Jules?_ "Um, yeah, a booking for Juliet Burke?"

He shakes his head adamantly, lips turning downwards. "No, ma'am. Ain't heard of a Juliet Burke. Ain't got any reservation either."

"Oh." She bites her lower lip. "This is Red Moss, isn't it?"

"For sure."

Surely they will give her a call when they arrive. She smiles. "Well, thank you anyway. I think I'm going to need a room for tonight."

"You'll have to sign here," he points to a space in the blue book. She does as told, initialling her name with a pen provided as he takes out a key from one of the drawers behind him. He hands it over to her and verbally directs her to the right place.

She goes through a door at the right side of the lobby and heads up the dirty green carpeted steps. On the third floor, she pushes open another door and walks through the lit corridor. A vending machine is situated at the end of it. A blond man with an exceptionally short haircut lurks in front of it, dark glasses hiding his eyes, his face turned away.

_Shady._

She spots her room number on the door just then. _There we go. Exhaustion to the max. _

Her room consists of one twin bed with white sheets and a beige blanket folded neatly at the end. By the wall is a tall cupboard which opens up to reveal some rusty hangers at the top with two drawers at the bottom. She doesn't even wish to check if they're bug-free. Besides, she didn't bring many belongings with her. Her clothes can stay in her bag for now since there isn't a plan to stay here for the day.

The room is indeed bare, she thinks with eyebrows raised as she takes a long look at her surroundings.

Or the lack of.

_Oh God, what am I doing here?_

A sudden flash of lightning at the window makes her turn. It zigzags its way to the ground, the brilliancy splitting the darkness into half. Instinctively, she claps her hands over her ears, expecting a crash of thunder any moment now.

One second. Then two seconds. Three.

She realizes it isn't coming. She slowly lowers her hands, still staring out the window when a loud rap on the door resounds through the room. She flinches at the interruption. Softly blowing out her breath, she drops her bag onto the bed and walks over to the door. Placing her hand on the surface, she looks through the peephole and with a quick glance the clothes and sunglasses, recognizes the man she saw at the vending machine.

She cocks her head, brows furrowed. _He's a cop? _

Warning bells set off in her head and she takes a step back from the door, strangely at a loss of what to do.

She's in an unfamiliar place. There doesn't seem to be anyone around, except for that guy downstairs, who can help her if she gets into some sort of trouble. Guests? How many guests are there really? She and the man at the door may very well be the only people staying here for the night.

Maybe she shouldn't open the door.

Decisions, decisions, a voice in her head lazily drawls.

She scans the room, noting that there is absolutely nothing that can be used as a weapon if she gets into a tight spot. No lamps, no hard movable objects, nothing. There's not even a chair.

"This is a seriously deficient motel," she whispers under her breath when her phone trills. Moving away from the door, she digs into her bag for the cell phone.

"Hello?"

"Juliet Burke?"

She nods. "Yeah."

"Martin here. I was told to meet you at Red Moss. Have you arrived?"

"Just." She glances at the door and hesitates. "Are you here yet?"

"In a couple of minutes. Be best if you could just wait for me outside the lobby."

_Oh. Guess she shouldn't have booked the room then._

"I'm sorry for any inconvenience. We're just a little short of time. I was told to get you there as soon as possible."

"It's fine," she replies. "I'll be down in a minute. Uh, is there—" She falters. Biting her lower lip, she pushes ahead. "James. Do you know if there's any news about him?"

"I'm sorry. We don't, but I'm sure we will soon."

"Right. Okay. Thank you."

Ending the call, she drops the phone back into the front pocket of her bag and plops down on the bed. A sudden rush of exhaustion overwhelms her and she fights the temptation to just curl up on the bed and fall asleep. With no news about James, there's no way she'll be able to get an ounce of sleep. She shakes her head and buries her fingers in her hair, closing her eyes. She has never been one to pray much, but now, she supposes, is as good a time as any. The only time she remembers having to pray with such desperation is the time she left him and built another life with Julian.

She releases her hair, letting it tumble back down around her face.

_Please. Please let him be all right._

She stands up, grasps her bag and slings it over her shoulder.

_I'll make it right this time if you just keep him safe. _

She takes another peek through the hole. No one around, at least, no one that she's able to see. She twists the knob and steps out into the little corridor. The way down ought to be on her right. She turns in that direction and starts down the hallway when she gets the strangest feeling of another presence with her.

Before she can swivel around to confront whoever it is stalking her, a strong arm snakes around her waist and jerks her forcefully back into the room. Her attempt to call for help is rendered futile by the hand that clamps hard over her mouth. He drags her easily, almost like she is a weightless feather, and shuts the door. A wave of fury sweeps over her at the sudden turn of events. She slams an elbow hard in his hip. He stumbles and she feels a rather pathetic sense of triumph when he emits a low groan. His grip on her, however, is unyielding.

"Let go," she mutters into his hand, preparing to shove her elbow at him again.

But when he speaks her name, she stills.

"_Juliet._"

She knows that voice.

A faint memory whispers through her mind, drawing her in like a moth to a flame.

_No, you don't let go. _

It's that voice.

_Don't you leave me._

Her breathing is shallow now, though she has already ceased her struggle. It is that same voice.

He pulls her tighter against himself. "Juliet." His voice is softer this time, gently caressing, soothing. He slides his hand from her mouth to the side of her face, resting there.

She missed his touch.

Her fingers curl around his arm at her waist. Her head spins with the very realization that he's with her.

_James. Here. Safe._

He strokes her cheek gently, his face pressed against her hair. He says nothing else, just seemingly satisfied to be holding her close to him.

Standing there in his embrace, it comes to her that she never knew how much she missed him. She never realized the extent of the fear that gripped her when they told her he was missing. Never realized the intensity of the turmoil that the one thought of losing him threw her into.

Not until he is here with her. Not until she is wrapped in his embrace.

He shifts then, turning her around. His face is unshaven, for two or three days now, she guesses. Gazing up at him, she feels the tears welling up within her. She swallows them. He still has on those dark glasses of his. But she wants to _see_ him.

He lets her lift the glasses from his face. His right eye is swollen shut. He'd been hit really hard.

"They did this to you?" She brushes her thumb lightly over the bruised area.

He smiles slightly. "Yeah. Shot me too."

It feels like someone has just punched her in the gut. He must have seen the change of expression on her face because he tells her then, "I'm doin' fine. Miles wrapped it up real well on our way here."

She wonders if he's just trying to put on a brave front. She looks away, then, raises perplexed blue eyes to his. "They called and said you were missing. I thought you'd been found out. What happened, James?"

His grip on her tightens. "Those people who called you. Do you know their names?"

An unexplainable fear ties her stomach into knots. "Only the one who called me earlier. He said his name was Martin."

His face darkens. "When did he call?"

"About a minute ago. He—"

"We gotta go now." With that, he pulls her towards the door with an urgency that she can't quite comprehend.

"James, wait," she stops him. "He said he's a cop. Maybe we should—"

"No, we shouldn't," he snaps at her abruptly.

She recoils, hurt showing in her eyes.

He drops his gaze. "I'm sorry, Juliet. It's just..." He blows out his breath, shaking his head. "Those guys who called you. They ain't cops, Juliet."

She blanches. "What?"

"I'll save the explanin' for later, sweetheart. Now, we gotta get outta here." He peers through the peephole, then seeing no one, cautiously cracks open the door. He looks both ways in the corridor before throwing a glance at her. She slips her hand into his waiting one and lets him lead her out. Her heart thumps so hard, it's almost painful.

_Awfully quiet, isn't it?_

Just when the thought comes, there is a crash of thunder. She flinches. James doesn't even show signs that he notices the noise.

"Okay, once we get to the end," he whispers. "Go—"

Something creaks from elsewhere in the motel. Like a footstep on a step. He cuts off, stiffening. She swallows a wince at the tightening grip on her hand.

Another creak.

She has no idea how he knows who are on those stairs, but she doesn't get a chance to ask. He wastes no time in speaking instructions. Turning on his heels, he yanks her in the other direction down the hallway. They are stumbling down another flight of stairs when she realizes there's another pair of footsteps pounding on the floor just behind them.

"Outside," he tells her breathlessly at the bottom of the steps.

She nods.

They avoid running across the lobby and burst through a side door into the night. She notices he is limping now.

"Dark green car by the tree," he gasps, releasing her hand.

He wants her to get ahead of him.

_Hell no. _

She loops her arm around his and pulls him along. "Not too far now," she murmurs. She recognizes Miles at the driver's seat. He pushes open the door to assist them. They are merely a couple of steps from the car, by the grass with little blue flowers in them, when a sudden sharp pain strikes her in the back. She staggers, sucking in a sharp breath.

She doesn't know when her head hits the ground. She recalls nothing of falling. But any wondering is swept away by the searing pain like a thousand of hell's hottest fires set in her body. And it burns, and smoulders with an excruciating pain that she never thought existed on the face of this earth.

Shadows from the deepest recesses of her mind spread like a spider's web. Crawling until not a shred of light is to be seen. Reaching until the darkness encompasses her world.

She hovers between consciousness, where the merciless flames engulf her, and the dark space of blissful ignorance.

"Miles!" She hears a scream, distinctly male and muffled, as though the person is yelling behind the thick curtains of a theatre. "Miles! Help me!"

She struggles to lift heavy eyelids that refuse to obey.

* * *

She lies on the ground, not responding to his calls. Her face is pallid. For a sick moment, he wonders if she is already beyond reach. Panic spreads from his chest like molten fire to the rest of his body and yet, it feels like ice runs through his veins.

_She's in shock. Do something, you son of a bitch!_

He is trembling. Few things make him lose control and the fear of losing her tops the list. His hands are stained dark with blood, her blood, from trying to staunch the bleeding in her back. He barely notices Miles dropping down beside him, panting. _Gun. Chase. Gone. Whatever._ His mind does not process anything that is being spoken to him. He stares down at her, pale and still. Already, he sees her slipping away.

But she can't. Not _this_ time. He clenches his jaw muscles. Help will not be here soon enough. Sliding arms beneath her, he picks her up, careful not to jostle her around too much. Miles helps them into the backseat, hops into the car, strapping in and screeches out onto the road to the nearest hospital.

He cradles her in his arms, and though he never ceases to apply pressure on her wound, it seems like with every passing second, she gets paler. His heart pummels rapidly in his chest. "Juliet?" He strokes her hair with an unsteady hand. "Come on, baby. Come on. Wake up."

He sees her eyelids flitter. He inhales sharply, holding his breath for the longest time until they open to reveal blue eyes that shift ever so slightly before they land on him.

A twitch of her lips. A feeble attempt at a smile. His chest tightens.

She parts her lips. "Hi," she manages weakly.

He bites back a sob and returns her smile. "Hey."

Her eyes dart from one corner to the next, like one thrown into sudden disorientation and unable to find her bearings. He touches her face gently to get her attention.

Terrified eyes meet his. "Wh-where are we?"

She doesn't remember, he realizes with a start. He shakes off the returning panic and refuses to address her question. "Don't worry about that. You're fine," he says, trying to hide the shakiness in his voice, and he continues, more to reassure himself than anything else. "I just...I gotta get you outta here, okay?" He shuts up then. Any more talk and he'll be babbling. Blubbering, actually.

He catches his breath when he sees her studying him. She is mild, suddenly calm, and it's almost as if she looks at him with a touch of sympathy. Hilarious, considering the fact that she's the one hurt. If it isn't such a precarious situation, he'll even allow himself a laugh. She blinks and then, smiles wearily. "Tired," she whispers and let her eyelids droop shut.

His breathing stops. He calls her name but his voice is so choked up that nothing really comes out at all.

"Almost there," Miles says and meets his eyes, no doubt red-rimmed by this time, in the rear view mirror. "Just hold on for a minute."

_Hold on. _

The words jog his memory.

He yanks on the silver chain he wears around his neck until the ring that he still carries around with him rises into view. It isn't easy to speak when all he wants to do is cry and plead for her not to die, but he missed his chance once. He's not going miss it again. He reaches for her hand, grasping it firmly in his. "Juliet...I promised to marry you. I didn't get to last time, but now..." He swallows hard. "Now I'm going to. Ya hear me? I love you, so you hold on, Juliet," he whispers through clenched teeth. "This one time, and you _don't let go_." He kisses the side of her head roughly and presses his face into her hair when he knows there is no keeping the tears back any longer. "I'm here, baby. It's okay," his voice breaks. "I'm here."

* * *

_A time to be born and a time to die_

_A time to kill and a time to heal_

_A time to weep and a time to laugh_

_A time to search and a time to give up_

_What is has already been_

_But everything is beautiful in its time_

* * *

Birds chirp cheery tunes, wake-up calls to all still in slumber. The breeze sails through the open window into the bedroom, carrying with it the scent of a brand new morning. It caresses her skin, rousing her from a deep, dreamless sleep. A smile graces her lips as her eyes flutter open to see the room is drenched in golden morning rays. It must be past 7.

She feels a hand touching her back, where she knows her scar from the bullet wound is. She rolls over to her side. He looks back at her with smiling eyes. How long he has been awake, she doesn't know, but the knowledge that he has been watching her sleep warms her heart.

"Good night?" He murmurs, rubbing his thumb on her finger. She nods as he clasps hands with hers. The ring on her fourth finger sparkles as it catches a ray of sunshine and refracts it in several other directions.

Imagine that. Married for two months now. Who would've thought it?

They had a late night out yesterday where during dinner he told her a piece of news that made emotions collide within her. To say she was happy is wrong, and to say she was disturbed also isn't right. Perhaps it's more accurate to say that though she wasn't thrilled to recall the event of what happened years back, she was relieved to hear that Edmund Burke is under arrest for drugging and attempted rape. James didn't mention the details of what happened or who the woman who filed a case against her ex-husband is, but truth be told, she didn't want to know. He never explained why he told her. All he said was, "I thought it'd be best if I told you," and that was the end of that topic. It didn't ruin their night out. She thought about it then and at that moment, remembered that she has already put the memory behind her. Edmund Burke has no part in her present or her future.

His deep voice pulls her out of her reverie. "Whatcha thinkin'?"

"About us," she replies, smiling.

He lifts his brows and starts to speak when a loud shriek reaches from one end of the house to the other.

"_Dadddddyyyy!_"

She giggles. James puts his finger to his lips and closes his eyes. It is a little like tradition to feign sleep every time their kids call, not that the boys care whether they're awake or not.

"BANGERANG!" A voice, one that they easily recognize as Julian's, yells. The door to their room bursts open and a large sheet of black cloth explodes in, screaming. It dives onto their bed, a squirming, wriggling ball with limbs. One particularly sharp elbow jabs into James's chest, another in Juliet's pelvis. She bites back a groan and thinks she hears one from her husband.

"BANG!" Julian races in behind his cousin. He holds a wooden toy gun in front of him, a black cowboy hat with a silver star-shaped badge on his head. "This is a hold-up! Put em hands up in the air where I can see em!"

Jimmy screams again under the black sheet, oblivious to his father's groans as he continually bounces on the bed. "He's shootin' me!"

"He ain't shootin' no one, kiddo. You got your daddy around to protect ya." He pulls the sheet from his son and wraps a strong arm around him. "With me around, no one ain't gonna hurt ya."

Julian scowls. "Aw, Dad, you're spoiling all the fun. I was gonna shoot the bad guy."

"Now who's the bad guy here? You're doin' a hold-up, Bud. That ain't good."

"He's the monster, can't you see?"

Meanwhile, Jimmy, having lost interest in being the monster, now clambers on her and sticks his face close to hers. "Hungry," he says, his blue eyes a reflection of hers. He presses his left hand on her cheek. "Breakfast, Mommy."

Even if he asked her to walk through fire, she thinks she'll actually do it.

She smiles. "What would you like?"

"Waffles," Julian offers as he trots to her side.

Jimmy nods and repeats. "Waffles."

"With lots and lots and lots of maple syrup."

"Wif lost and lost and lost of mabel sup."

She laughs as James looks on in amusement. "Waffles with maple syrup then." She pushes herself up, catching Jimmy in her arms before he tumbles off. "Go brush your teeth before breakfast. Daddy can help with that, can't you?" She throws a look at him, eyebrows raised.

"Of course," he answers with fake snobbery, but a big grin spoils the whole act. He clears his throat, draping the black sheet over his head, and stumbles off the bed. "Kids who ain't gonna brush their teeth will be eaten for breakfast!" He growls and lunges forward, making the boys scream as they bolt from the room.

As they scramble down to the bathroom, she gazes at the empty doorway, wondering what feeling it is that makes her want to laugh, long and loud, and makes her want to dance in the rain and sing and do all those seemingly silly little things. But she settles for a little smile that can never convey the depth of the emotion running through her.

Is it happiness? No, she has found more than just happiness.

Peace. She has found peace.


End file.
